Routines

 Routines are long iron rails.

You may not deviate from these tracks.

You may only go where they go,

Unlike a man or a mule

Picking their way

Along a stony track

Or a stick dependent cripple

Negotiating a suburban pavement

To avoid tree roots and cracks.

Routines save the bother of thought.

No need to know what next to do,

Decisions are already imprinted

Deep below consciousness

But, if things go wrong,

Panic crawls out from its corner

Liquids are spilled,

Objects are dropped,

Missteps are made.

Routines are forgotten.

Emergency procedures

May not be properly enacted.

And the result can be beautiful chaos,

An unexpected birth,

Of beauty and loveliness,

Or, more often than not,

Just one more hot mess.