Routine

Structure

has always been

our balm

for disorder

long ago

the seasons offered

practical and sacred

boundaries

the time to plant

the time to hunt

the time to harvest

and the time to shelter 

from the long and frozen night

time passed

and although we may no longer be 

symbiotic with the earth

we adhere to a time to work

and a time to play

a time to celebrate

with grand buffets

a time to concentrate

on forthcoming pay

but now we must constrict our scope

to the small, the simple, the quiet, to soap

for limited by circumstance it is routine that may offer hope.