Rust on an Early Tuesday Morning

I try to shake away the rust around my legs
To travel forward in to a brand new day
My feet ache from the miles they have traveled
My legs cramp up in the mooring light

I bring my hands to the keyboard
Carpal tunnel is denied control of my writing spirit
I will not yield to the numbness of my fingers
It will not stop me from recording my day

I summon all the mental will I can muster
The fog of Dawn clings all about me
It's
Everything
I
Can
Do
To
Put
One
Word
In
Front
Of
Another

But try I must
Through the fog and pain
Through the dwindling receptors
Through the discouraging silence
Try I must

And when I do
The pain makes sense
The fog clears
At least enough to know

I tried