Sunday

Listening to

* the sixteen*

their notes floating

in,

and drifting down

to hide among the

bright folded

Sunday sheets.

Vacation is coming.

I have so many books to read
and catch up on ~

and don't know which ones to take.

the wind is blowing outside the window

almost as if it is

sending falling

stars onto the floor.

Coffee, warm and bitter .

Down the row houses

and the row lives

Sunday papers are being read

lunch is being prepared.

All behind hidden windows

that no one ever sees.

My mind assures me

that summer , can we call it summer? ....

will stay.

Or at least, arrive.

The church bells are ringing.

The singing of God's praises has started.

Sunday.