The clock and the calendar move
forward incrementally, naturally
(as it should be) from a darker
winter we can’t leave behind to
something resembling spring.
In-between our seasons we take
whatever we can, where we are.
We have little choice.
A less-than-enthusiastic forecast
glares at me from a mobile device,
with greater chance of soakers
more than once or twice in the
week ahead as atmospheric rivers
come down to earth (a convenient
excuse for all it’s worth).
April showers still to come, as it
happens, as it is always done, we
keep moving forward step-by-step
mainly in spite of the weather.
03/27/2023 j.g.l.
2 replies on “Mondays are just young Fridays”
So was it purposeful that you dated the poem the 36th of April so that, perhaps, you could catch history happening?
mistakes happen.
I am here, whatever the day, flaws and all…
and my history has been changed, just like that,
right back to the now. Thanks for catching that.