We are all living through a lot during these viral days,
  and I am enriched by your support, in so many ways.
This poet is not done writing, no how, no way,
  but it’s too hard to sustain at the rate of one per day.

The house is calling and these walls need fresh paint,
  the worn-out appliances require the patience of a saint.
If that’s not enough, there’s one more reason:
  It’s late spring here now, which is a very short season.

Please don’t view this as a cop-out or a final farewell,
  I simply need to focus on other stuff for a spell.
And when work is caught up, whenever that may be,
  I’ll be back with contorted lines; you just wait and see!

I’m not going to make this sappy or overly drawn out.
  just want to say: Be good, do your best, and try not to pout.
So this is it, I’m done, my last poem-of-the-day.
  Stay well, Dear Reader, thanks for listening this way.