I’m new to this pharmaceutical
world, but the kids convinced me.

It’s been about 10 hours
since I took my medical
license for a spin, squirted
a little tincture on my tongue
and yo ho, off to work I go.

Typical blend of chores,
easy weeding, sweaty
shoveling–I’m in final
stages of rebuilding, moving
tons of amended topsoil upward
so I can tend my beds standing.

After an hour, I noticed
two things: my movements
in tight places had become
a dance, and my hands wrists
and thumbs didn’t hurt.

Rain interrupted, I mended
a hose, had a nosh, the rain
ended and I cruised through
two more hours working,
gathering and bagging yard
waste that goes away tomorrow.

Long shower, small dinner
then up to the bird room
Joni Mitchell on the radio
and I realize I’m tripping!

On the glide path down from
a good one! I felt exactly
like this in Punta Cahuita,
downcoast from Puerto Limon
in Costa Rica, 1974, black sand
beach and blue mushrooms
that grow on composting
cowshit, in full communion
with everything including
that vaguely familiar old
geezer who’s amazed his
opposing thumbs almost work.