The first days are the easiest,
it doesn’t matter the task.
There is the flush of excitement,
the hopes, the uncertainty.

Will I be able to complete the task?
Will I encounter something new?

Yet as the days progress, the routine sets in.
Will today be like yesterday?
Will I have enough energy?

I push myself to get out and walk,
to pick up paper and write.

The obligatory references to Sisyphus arise,
as do the self-doubts.

I try to convince myself that the slog
is making some sort of a difference,
even though I can see it.

Hopes vanish and all that is left is the discipline,
perhaps with a residua of dreams.

Doubts increase, with a recognition that it
wasn’t the best effort.

But there is always tomorrow.