Saturday’s Child: a curtal sonnet

This morning, when I rose from bed, the street
was all abustle with the weekend’s chores.
Fresh coffee brewed, I filled my favorite mug
and sipping slowly, found the flavor sweet.

The cat was chasing lizards ’round the floor;
I shook my head and gave my wife a hug.
Outside, the sounds of lawn and garden tools
and stereos blended in a dull roar;

I shuffled, still half sleeping, ‘cross the rug,
whispered silent curses at these fools
and shrugged.

10 APR 2004

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