Bounties.

My days are shorter,
Than they used to be,
Yet filled with no air.
There’s no space for me.
I could take some back,
It’s in my power,
Whether minutes,
Or a stolen hour,
But this isn’t my time,
This is a swamp to wade.
I need to push on through,
Sink deep my spade.
This time is for grafting,
For not drowning in life.
I can take my time,
When bounties are rife.