Slow Sweet Sundays...

Slow Sweet Sundays... 

When the breeze is dancing the palm fronds,

A back-patio tango of light,

Shadows,

Green dancers,

Time stills briefly,

Corona curled up by my side,

Or in my arms like a baby purr factory,

The TV is dancing with arts and crafts,

My mind adrift,

Softened gaze as I see the small things,

Small things the hustled week drowns,

The set of mid-afternoon sun in late Spring.

A month of Sundays doesn't sound bad at all.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 06-07-2026

Corona

Regards,

Dan Stafford