Stench

some days you find the stench
in your mental existential trench
some days are like shoveling dirt
heavy wet dirt until your arms hurt
fall days can be sweet

the cool air makes

pie and coffee

a treat
but these gray skies
make me want

to accept defeat
my body aches
from my arms down to my feet
and it seems like
the cloud filled days
are stuck on repeat
this too shall pass
becomes your mantra