Sunday Morning

Nothing gets through.

Not the window open

to the first sunny air

after an aggressive winter.

Not the memory of last night’s

lovemaking, nor the jolt

of a navel orange,

happy news from a friend,

children’s peals, coffee, poetry,

the Velvet Underground.

That My Little Pony episode

is stressing you out. Shouldn’t

you be working on something?

Guess that got through.

This needs work (shouldn’t I be working on something?!) but I’m posting anyway to participate in Kenia’s Sunday prompt to the Real Toads.