“Sunday Morning” by Tami Boehle-Satterfield

Everything makes me sad.
Regina Spector singing about a mountain top.
The morning sky with its
Thin, white, cirroculmulus clouds
Detached and rippling,
Boastful and independent of the Azure blue.

Everything makes me melancholy.
The fawn colored dog
Curled in a patch of June sun
Watching ants,
Curious as the cat
Watching the squirrels fuss at the big, brown dog.

Everything makes me thoughtful.
The babbling sound-
Running smoothly over rocks,
Splashing into the pond
Filled with loud orange fish.

Everything makes me easy.
The rusted iron bird joyfully perched,
Guarding over browned men working.
The bitter taste of Arabica
From my favorite mug thrown with thin walls of stoneware clay.

Everything makes me content.
The watermelon scent of freshly cut grass.
The heat of the sun edging in like a child saddling up onto my shaded chair.
The anticipation of closing my laptop.
A Sunday morning poem done!

June 14, 2015

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