Weekend Rituals
It begins on Friday night, I don’t set the alarm clock.
I get to sleep in on Saturday and Sunday. I spend
half an hour contemplating the day: dead head
the buddleia, weed the front azalea patch, laundry.
Coffee is next on the agenda. It drips while I assemble
the rest of breakfast. Eggs to scramble, biscuits
to bake. Pour that first cup of coffee into my favorite
summer time mug. Scramble the eggs, biscuits
bake in the toaster oven which dings
when time is up. Butter the split biscuits;
on Saturday top with jelly, on Sunday honey.
The TV is my family, I eat in front
of it. Second cup of coffee joins me.
I make my list or I will forget the little
things like fill the hummingbird feeder.
Of course, poetry is high on the list;
it comes first each day. Look for journals
to send to, weekend prompts to keep
me writing. Except in the summers, working
in the yard may come first before the heat,
humidity and mosquitoes drive me indoors.
The reverse is true in the winter.
I look forward to these leisurely
mornings as I recover from the busy week.
