Blessed Sunday

A sigh of relief Christmas is over
a few loose ends here and there
but the local shop is open
I need milk for my morning coffee.
Freedom at last released from
shackles of festivity.
We have house guests that are Ok
they have their quarter
and sleep late.
Raining, I have to drink black coffee
I don’t mind, what is great, is the peace.
Yesterday I printed a manuscript
“Equinox,” finally, I must say
one guest repaired the printer, gave him
wholly socks as presents.
So, let the day march on. I don’t care.