Poetry

Every intention

When I got up this morning
I had every intention of going caving.
Then I had a cup of tea.
I walked over to my gear.
I walked away from the smell.
Another cup of tea.
A mess of porridge with honeyed redemption
hung heavy with procrastination.
Did my lights work?
Oh dear yes.
Was every thing there?
Oh dear yes.
After doing my pre-trip pre-checks
I had another cup of tea.
The porridge resettled its destination.
I went off to the cave with every intention.
On the walk across the lush loamed fields
alternate intentions were scented everywhere.
I stayed committed to my route
on the savory powered tracks of the sun.
Soon I stood at the cool, luring,
whispering wind entrance.
I still have every intention.