these Sunday mornings feel like endless seas
I’m slowly floating toward the horizon
immersed in bluish mist through which
the rising sun sends warming rays

sleepy I gaze through frosted window panes
     there is a world out there
yet somehow all that I can see
are hazy shapes of luscious breakfast items
set upon the table beckoning
together with the morning papers
for me to settle down and eat and read
     without time’s breath upon my neck
no need to hurry   jump into my clothes
rush out and try to catch the bus

the news is terrible as usual
but somehow less important than on other days
whether the stocks are high or low
abroad   at home   the dollar falls or rises
affects me moderately at best

it seems a lazy morning spawns a lazy brain
noises of busy-ness seek access here in vain
headlines are read without concern and soon forgotten
all systems are content with letting go
and feel besotten with the prospect of a pleasurable day

     nice picknick on the common green
     a game of badminton to have some exercise
     delicious dinner at my favorite restaurant
    
night comes much earlier than you surmise
on your way home you see the half-moon rise
you vaguely wonder where the day has gone
before you rest your head after no work well done