Will It Ever End?

Remember when I said I wanted the seasons to realign correctly so I could get on with my 'fall' activities? I changed my mind. It's cold. I didn't wear socks today. And it's Monday. An ode follows, reminding me why I never became a poet.

The clouds rumble, tumble, plump.

A grey grey day all around all around.

A dull ache at the temple

looms but never lands.

Sidewalk.

Sweater.

Sipping.

Not fresh but dank.

Not crisp but cold.

Jeans.

Brown.

Must. Close. Eyes.

A snuggle-good book waits, waits, waits.

A mug yearns to be cradled importantly.

Feeling hollow.

Feeling too full.

The delicious density of an abbreviated slumber

rests on the lashes.

Flourescent lights.

A copier hums.

The day

Today

Monday

Will It Ever End?

I close my eyes and wait.