Category: Sunday

Making a Living

Sunday is not
Funday.
Especially this one.
There is a hint
Of rain, more than a hint
Of dimness
Darkness
Cloudness.
Then there is
Tomorrow, the much-dreaded.
Today I will
Shave
Iron clothes
Gas the car.
Tomorrow, before daylight,
I’ll set off
Grim-faced
Determined
Single-purposed.
To arrive by 8 a.m.
Is not to
Sleep in.
No more of that
Human
Foolishness.
Because work is what
We people do.
They call it “making
A living” and not
“Having
A
Life.”

The Library, 9 A.M.

I am surrounded
By books.
Their covers flash
Colorful faces.
I step toward one
(In particular)
To note its personality.
I pick it up, look at its
First page.
Its words
Bring a smile.  I place it
Back down.
I walk among
The stacks.
A million seductive whispers
Come my way.
I listen
I hear
I smile
(Inwardly).
They want me to stop,
Pay closer attention.
I will stop,
I whisper back.  I promise
I will.
And so I do.
I stop, touch
A spine
And read the words
With reader’s eyes.