Lulled by the whir
Of the ceiling fan
And the steely gray of the sky
Not a foreboding gray but
One full of the promise of warm rain
The kind against which
I did not draw the blinds.
And outside the window
I heard the lady neighbors
Enjoying the first laughter
Of spring
The warmth of pavement under their feet
And the way their voices once again
echoed around the lot.
And with my eyes sliding shut
I painted the scene in my mind
So I would remember it was a good day.
Copyright (c) 2009
