It’s a nothing’s working sort of day.
So much to do,
So much to say,
So many things that need put into place,
But nothing’s working.

There are so many things that need wrapped up,
Packed up,
Stacked up.
But everything’s slid where it shouldn’t quite be.
I’m the only one working.

But things you don’t know are occurring,
Bubbling,
Brewing,
Emerging in places you can’t yet see:
Don’t turn in your keys.
More things than you think are still working.