Written a long while ago

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There's a sliver in my foot's flesh the palm there that part that feels my weight smack down-hard down on gravel there's a mirror image of the killdeer a tattoo of the woodpecker's drum the scream from the worm as its impaled. Staring into the glass before me my fingers pulsate the pain there's a sliver the size of a heron's eyelash or so my fingers report. Overcast this morning. It's almost time to take my hubby to a doc visit. Tomorrow it will be Fred cat's turn to visit with a Doc. I sometimes feel like a messenger person and taxi cab driver. Then I run into old poetry. The feel from the lines shoots me back to old times and old routines. I hope everyone's day is going well.