Rest Stop

It would be so nice just to say that I am done;
That there is nothing left I have to do.
Of course, we both know it would not be true
(There are so many tasks not yet begun)
But still, I would imagine it is fun
To have done everything you needed to,
And, as the shadows of the evening grew,
Relax and bless the setting of the sun,
Instead of cursing how it proves the hours
Have passed away unused. I look at those
Who seem to have such times with uncontrolled
Envy, and although each minute scours
My weary mind with new tasks that arose,
The thought of rest shines out at me like gold.