Habit of a Lifetime

I overdid it in the garden today. 

My friend comes with his

hedge clippers

and

gives straggly bushes 

short haircuts.

After he leaves

I carry on 

pruning and 

sweeping and

 up-end

a cavernous

 building bag of 

clippings 

and dead wood

into the 

giant bins

at the re-cycling tip.

I like the idea of 

pacing myself.

Stopping to rest

for a cup of tea,

for lunch.

Stopping before

every muscle and bone

aches

and creaks.

But it's like

trying on 

a shorter shirt

wearing a different

colour.

It feels unfamiliar

to be gentle

and

to listen 

to the voice of

kindness

when it 

applies

to me.

To protect my 

sore

arthritic fingers.

When there is still so much

to do.

While I still can.

And a habit of a lifetime

to change.