Photo by Mohamed Nohassi on Unsplash
when the barn owl hoots no more
when the night’s
dark eyes won’t lift their lids
the sun
won’t cheer the day awake
storms
lose their breath
oceans
forget their flow
when flowers
take their last bow
leaves
abandon trees
and the barn owl
hoots no more
I will lift my eyes
to the distant horizon
where memory
brings back
meandering trails
where lively brooks
splash like laughter
over polished rocks
reminding us
of treasured faces
in carefree times
and where we stood
on the high plateau
in the warmth
of each other’s sunshine
no trace
hands tease
ripples over water
from a log
a row of sunning turtles
slips under
paddles from view
on land again – stillness
no trace of our presence
on lake’s blank face
only remembrance
footprints in the dark
a feather swept from sight
again
it’s hateful Monday following on the heels of boring Sunday when folks sleep in go to bed early to face a week of days piling up at the gate eager to pick up the office shovel turn masterful tricks for rewards that tease the Joneses and us with our mile-long shopping lists to stay ahead of neighbors until at five it is time to close the files grab take-out to feed the kids who study for Tuesday exams
I won’t bore you with the rest of the stressful week simmering on the back-burner just short of bubbling over making a mess with dried-on crusts of weekday living until it arrives breathless at busy Saturday to hang laundry sort socks watch kids kick balls with their heads then demand with sweat-glistening seriousness to stop at the pizza joint with the rest of the team
you won’t begrudge us the five o’clock martini – double olives and a twist – legs crossed under the umbrella table watching the sinking sun dip out of sight until it reappears you guessed it – Sunday morning when we yawn on lawns breathing in the smell of Saturday’s mowing
should I weep or scream
at the inventor of the week