“Make a list,” I said to me,
“Of things to be done immediately,”
And having so said I made a note
To find some paper on which I wrote.
I labeled the paper, “Things to Do”
And then I thought of one thing, then of two,
Then seven, ten, and twenty-three and more,
Faster than I could write down the score.
I scribbled across the page into the borders;
I made notes in the margins and all of the corners.
And then I looked down at this mess of words
And strolling to bed, I decided, “Work is for the birds.”
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