A pretence for a poem. A tanka, I think.
This is the state of mind to which I aspire.
Time Marches On
Shaggy grey coat,
Leaden skies, weary bones
Counting the beat.
Condensate chills the air
Ruminate, counting the beat.
This is the actual state of my mind, best expressed in a song, Counting The Beat, by New Zealand band, The Swingers.
I saw the small dog trudging along when I was out on one of my walks.
Take care, Sydney. Stay safe, stay sane, everyone.