One Sunbeam

Warmth late in the year leaves me conflicted
Want to curl up in the sun’s lap
Want to sprint to get my shit done
Try to meter out my options
But I think my scale is broken
I’m all wound up to do nothing
But I shine that nothing golden
Lace my leathers, get to running
Crunching sunshine under boots.
In the dusky weathered hum of
dying arbor, just a little, 
Curled up, half hot, in those roots
Industrious since tasting winter
Do I strive or do I savor? 
Season strung through dreams I waver
What path hungers for my fruits?