head groggy, thoughts thick,
formed slow as churned butter,
body dense shoulders tense
and why wouldn’t this be the fact
after a week such as this?
a single crow caws its cry of dawn
as the neighborhood awakens,
takes its Sunday yawn.
guitar music,
brisk air on deck,
me wearing
a warm
blue
sweatshirt,
spacious
clear
silent sky
overlays
all
today.
even the street
is smiling
in its tired
morning stretch.
No comments:
Post a Comment