#2,474 Shaded under my tree

Shaded under my tree – I do
not know what it is [I cannot
be arsed to gather its name] –
I slump in my garden chair –
spilling coffee stains a stone
&’ll remain ‘til I do not know
[& other Stoic stuff] as rooks
outwardly gulp their calls in
response to awkward gulls –
my body aches with disease
[extremities scream] & sleep
is a lover – this shaded place
is my escape from their sun –
I am working out how long &
what I have to plan for – heat
is projected as high executor
for those of frail dispositions
& aged ones – by twenty-fifty
I will be done – Gift me shade
‘til then – no hot death alone