the poem
sundays at 7 am
cups and cups of coffee
soothe my morning
sun shines through the cracks
on the window sill, candles glow
it is a luxurious day
nature's delight
indulgences are plenty
fresh orange juice, smell of sweet perfume
tulips in a vase, although not in season
birds coming in for a landing
bathe in the grassy dew
my heart flocks to this day
devours the ordinary beauty
of what is my waking
alive and aware
the minutes take hours it seems
and I am sacredly devoted
to the beats and moments
of my life...
at 7 AM...
on a sunday. *k 3.21.09