Sunday 

Today I’m following 

Mary Oliver’s example,

She’s a mentor and fine poet 

After all. 

So I’m taking each moment 

As it arrives, strolling slowly 

Along a quiet path,

Attentiveness 

My curious companion. 

Smoothness of this page

As I write across its welcoming

Surface. Downward tilt 

Of my head, feel

Of slender pen in hand.  

Not much now to be said

Except that..

Like an unseen animal

Slurping from a forest 

Pool, the coffee

Pot’s rhythmic brewing 

Drip-drips 

Into my perked-up ears 

While I sit

In this tobacco-hued 

Easy chair, butt slumping 

On the cushion collapsed

As ancient springs 

Sing out of tune

In their burrow

Underneath.