Whelmed

There’s too much to

do.

There’s not enough to

keep.

There’s stuff about to

clean

and

read

and

shine

and

fix

But none of it is

mine

but it must be

done.

It doesn’t keep me

busy

but it does keep me

occupied.

So I’m doing this

which

keeps me from

that.

It’s neither good or

bad.

It’s neither happy or

sad.

It’s just there,

doing what must be

done, to be done

while the doing is

good.