Tomorrow

Hanging,
Stuck in limbo
Wondering what the next week will hold,
If the times will stick,
Or if the cleanse will begin.

A Sunday,
Sheltered in place,
Trips to the basement,
Burpees the reward,
The old up-down as Burgess might write.

Rain,
Stuck inside tomorrow,
Ride, ride, ride,
If the fates can muster the proper energy
Time will pass purposefully.

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