Monday, August 24, 2009

Slow Sundays

Slow Sundays
When the crown of the sun
Rouses from the hills
But never stirs
And little ones play
Beneath their beds
Spiritual souls
Bow their heads
In blessed pews
And birds sink deep
Upon their nest
To warm their eggs
Mama kneads the dough
And kisses her bread
While papa rests upon the radio
Absorbed in his team instead
Quiet and empty
The desolate road fades
Darkness settles over Sunday
The bustle of life rushes in again

8 comments:

Kilauea Poetry said...

I liked your slow sundays..from the crown of the sun never stirring- just the capture of the atmosphere during the day.
Hope everything is ok with you over on your side of the world. Have a great week-

Kay said...

Sundays are lazily slow, you say it so well, wanting to be there with everyone in that moment (I can smell the bread baking, hear the birds chirping, feel the sun setting)...

Brosreview said...

I could feel the slowness! Keep writing!!!

Fiducia said...

Just a perfect sunny Sunday..:)
I actually visualised the entire theme..this was simply awesome..
You just sang in your verses, how beautiful can any day be..
Keep writing..:)

septembermom said...

You captured the beauty of a slow Sunday. The images are very comforting and familiar. Terrific job.

floreta said...

nice depiction. sundays should be slow!

Nadege said...

hey write girl, you've painted a lovely & loving
potrait of the perfect sunday... a stillness
threads this poem... gentle.

Saadi said...

My Sundays are SO not like this!!! It's a hustle and bustle even then.....gotta do all the work my mom's piled up for me since the week!