the arms of sunday

i'm up way too early.

i'll go back to bed shortly.

coffee and toast first.
i'll get the paper off the porch
and read
some of the new but old
never changing,
awful news.

I'll write a poem or two.
look out the window
at the sky. i'll be grateful
for all that is.

i'll think about the past
for a few minutes.
then the day ahead.

i'll rest in the soft arms of
sunday morning,
and wish it was you instead.