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.