there will never be enough
hours in the day
or minutes within the hours
or muscles within my legs
to accomplish what I need.

instead, I ought to sit back,
sip on the sweet nectar of my microbrew,
enjoy watching the kids burn calories,
and watch the sun settle itself
amidst the purple mountain majesties.

but even with too-short days and
too-sore muscles, and
as sweet as a beer may be,
it will never be as sweet
as the day I claim my victory.