things can wait

sunburned and vaguely
blue, having the long
weekend disappear
so quickly,
you find
everything is as you left
it
when arriving home.
that chair,
that sofa, that dish
in the sink.
the plants
on the sill. a white vase
that sits on the buffet,
unflowered, unused.
what little the
ice box holds.
the pictures on the wall
are where
you placed them,
years and years ago.
the bed too
is where it was. made
as if new,
pillows aligned on
the spread tight
sheets. corners tucked
as they should be.
there's mail on the floor,
messages
on the phone, but there
is no rush
to begin a work week,
there is more rest still
to attend to.