Nag, Nag, Nag All Day

The buzzing sound in my ears
is not from flies, mosquitoes, gnats,
but from the nagging voices of errands
born with the day in trivial detail
that clamor for attention. The phone
intrudes, doorbell insists, mail lies
waiting to be answered, an eaves trough
leaks, the hose won’t reach the
flowerbed. My tolerance of demands
barely equals my sense of responsibility.
Who knows how long I can hold a pen
or the windows of my mind stay
clear enough to see more than the day’s facts?
I look forward to just one time when
no bells ring, no letters beg,
no thistles grow in the garden.