poetry
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Juggling

Maybe I haven’t learned to juggle well yet?
I keep dropping balls.
Maybe it’s that I’m a fool, not a bad juggler.
I think it’s more likely that I’m a fool.
 
I’ve got two preps,
about 200 students,
59 of which are ELLs (59!?!!?),
four kids,
one husband,
my guitar,
I’ve not run in awhile
like I’d like to,
and a myriad of other
micro-things going on.
 
Mr. Robinson stands at the corner and juggles
almost every day across from his door, and he
occasionally, but rarely, drops a ball.
But, he doesn’t juggle more than three balls.
More than three is too much, he said.
 
I wonder if he is
wise, humble, and content
or just making excuses.
I’m inclined to
believe him,
learn my lesson.
And, pastor
keeps preaching
“too many priorities
paralyzes people.”
 
Which means, I’m thinking, I really have
had enough of this foolishness and – I am –
I am just going to go ahead and throw
a few balls away.

Reader, understand.

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