Return to Reality

It is Hard to drag
this body, heavy
from days spent -
watching the birds frolic in
winter's bare branches.

To dust off the eyes
and train them again to see
the trails left
from Nothing Much and
things not happening.

My hand is on the coffee pot.

I do not Suppose caffeine will
cure my Malady.
Rather, it will make me Crackle
with artificial Life.