A Saturday, with nothing to do,
is sweeter than
a heavy grape on the vine.
To have
free time
to laze about
the spirit in the hand
of the day
is a graceful, naked thing
a busy body craves
like a cold wants
comfort in the wind.
How are we
to know
the joy of living
without a little leisure
from time to time?
I soak my skin
in early morning mostly silence,
the whirl of fountains,
the skitter of two cats
rushing up the carpeted stairs
back and forth in the darkness
before I rise to meet their needs.
To meet my needs
I think I'll lay here
another 15 minutes
and listen to the fans
push the humid air
around and over the bed,
listen to the words
genuflex in my waking head.
April Ridge lives in the expansive hopes and dreams of melancholy rescue cats. She thrives on strong coffee, and lives for danger. In the midst of Indiana pines, she follows her heart out to the horizon of reality and hopes never to return to the misty sands of the nightmarish 9 to 5. April aspires to beat seasonal depression with a well-carved stick, and to one day experience the splendor of the Cucumber Magnolia tree in bloom.
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