It’s a day on which I don’t want to tax my brain.
French or calculus? Damn it, I ain’t fain!
I’ve done all my work, and I’ve tried to do it well.
If Monday catches ambition, that’ll be swell!
Yes, then I’ll fear and tremble with the Dane,
or download an app that’ll help me master Trig.
I’ll conquer that devilish cadenza in Grieg,
then begin composing an epic poem
which chronicles COVID from its outbreak in Rome
in a sequence of sonnets stretching league for league -
the sort of stuff I do when I am bold!
But today I’m content just to grow a day old.
My children, indeed, expect little else from me.
“Get some rest, Dad. It’s Father’s Day, you see!”
And I’m happy to do exactly as I’m told.