Reading E-mail - a poem

 

Reading E-mail

 

I sort through screens of e-mails.

Deleting what I can. Scanning parts of the rest.

The header. Is it addressed to me? The number of people on the e-mail. The first line.

A compliment. An advertisement. A come-on. A problem.

 

I have taken to not reading e-mails until noon. Or later.

The rest of the day will be filled with solving small problems.

Not problems I created, but issues that a president can address.

Not fix, perhaps, at least answer.

 

I ask myself, why start the day with problems?

Instead, I start with coffee, a little Danish, and the NYT games. Puzzles I can solve.

Or, I drive into the hills to photograph wildlife and nature. Brief respites from the mundane  

In between, I might write or edit. Or paint.

 

Where to start? The page and the canvas are empty and white.      

I don’t remember the last time I read a book. Or took a walk.

Arthritis and the pain keep me from what I once was.

Or is that an excuse?

 

Like not reading e-mail.