A SUNDAY MORNING LESSON

by: dc HILL   August 5, 1992

Is there any higher contentment

Than languishing in bed on Sunday morning?

We had that bit of Nirvana going for us

While morning yellow splashed the windowsill.

Then sounds of crunching feet

Come filtering through the fog of sleep.

A pause and then the shock of the doorbell,

Far more disturbing than Monday’s alarm.

We compete in a dash to the kitchen door.

It frames our Piped Piper neighbor

In slightly irritated stance.

She holds the hand of our three year old.

“We had this visitor come to play this morning.

But really! I need a cup of coffee

And a little of the paper

Before I can get into that scene.”

Morning etiquette has changed,

No early excursions without permission.

Sundays, we still search for Nirvana

And later, for our neighbor’s smiling countenance.