Sunday, May 28, 2006

IN PRAISE OF SLOW SUNDAY MORNINGS

The Eggman began tossing and turning
When the green light of the clock read 7:50

A dark, calm night free from nightmare or hacking cough
I could see the sunlight filtering through the blinds
Through my eyelids, turning the world a bickish red

Going down to the first floor
The Eggman beside me, holding my hand down the stairs
I smiled to myself knowing that it was Sunday


A long weekend
The first weekend of summer vacation
A day in which there was nothing to do
Except whatever we wanted

No car (wife has it)
No phone (died, can’t find charge cord)
No school (it’s over)
No worries.

I pull aside the broken blinds
And I see an old man by the pool

He sits in sunlight at a green plastic table
His coffee is in a silver travel mug
His Sunday paper is in front of him
His shirt hangs off the back of his chair
The water’s surface is smooth as glass in all directions

I come to see that he and I are brothers
We have nothing that needs to be done
(nothing that can’t wait a good hour or two while we enjoy the rising of the sun)
We are freed today from the tyranny of work
And we both know it

4 comments:

Jenny Jenny Flannery said...

"Freed from the tyranny of work" I love that!

Nice poem.

Jenny Jenny Flannery said...

The best nuggets of wisdom are mined from the subconscience.

Jenny Jenny Flannery said...

I can't spell that word...nor can I spell lisence...license?

There are just some words I have a mental block against.

pffft!

Distant Timbers Echo said...

Well, at least there's no school! Hahaha... ha... huh... hem.