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Gravity

Gravity is sitting on my head
A weighty but not unattractive
Confection, something from
Mother Nature’s collection
Adorned with autumn leaves
Or spring blossoms or some
Summery sun-drenched grapes
Or a sparkly white winter veil

It pushes down relentlessly
Sometimes provoking pain
Not a headache, not really
More like the strong hand
Of a strict parent keeping me
In my place, so to feel better
I lie in bed, a colossal icepack
On my assaulted, aching face

Gravity is a serious (grave!)
Thing, keeping me tethered to
My stubborn old Mother Earth
Who will never let go, who will
Never cease to let me know
That she is the boss, she will
Always be the one to disclose
What to do and where to go