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Nebraska, Crawford, Rolled and Stacked Bales of Hay Photo by: Education Images/Universal Images Group via Getty Images

Days are long.
Days are limited.
The cold in the morning.
The warmth follows it.
Then the cold again wins the day. Again.
And again.

Days are long.
Days are limited.
Placing the feet on the ground.
It is the first win of the day.
The joints are tight. The muscles are too.
The pain will subside, the more that we move.
As the night creeps. The mind knows the day is done.
Was it a good one? Did we waste it?
There is always tomorrow.

Days are long.
Days are limited.
In the fall, we know what follows.
The winter. The death it brings.
In the winter, we know what follows.
The spring. The life it brings.
In the spring, we know what follows.
The summer. The heat.
In the summer, we know what follows.
The fall. We are here again. One more time.
How many more times?

Days are long.
Days are limited.
There will be a last fall, winter, spring and summer.
There will be a last cold. A last warmth.
There will be a last win. A last loss.
Was it a good one? Did we waste it?

There’s Always Tomorrow - By Nathan McHugh