Sunday
is a good day
for making love.

Worms surrender noiselessly,
as blackbirds shush each other
dozing dogs ignore cats curled up
by the embers of yesterday’s fire
napping as the mice enjoy a lie-in

No bustle or hustle
no papers to shuffle
no breakfast and shower and
dress and drive...

...just half-asleep
and half-alive;
floating in the hazy bay
of last night’s lazy chardonnay.

A day for calm –
no plans, no demands –
a drive, perhaps?
a walk in the park?
or maybe just toast and apple juice
and not getting dressed all day.

But for now, just turn over, snuggle up,
and kiss her behind the ear.

Yes.

Sunday
is a good day
for making love