Monday Morning Ritual
The sun is low on the horizon yet the light streams
through my window leaving its warmth on my cheek
with a gentle caress, the kind a mother
visits upon her child in the morning.
The air last night had a coolness that makes sleep
a cocoon where dreams wrap its warmth around you
and the morning arrives with an edge that
keeps you under the covers, not quite ready to face
the day and the chill of bare feet on the floor.
But the cats are insistent upon my rising, seems
they are unable to feed themselves even though
there is food in the bowl, I must spray it
with water to make it taste better and assure them
that they are special and proper attention is payed.
Later this morning they will tear through the house
as if there were mice to catch and strangers to chase
from their domain while bickering with each other
as to who is more dominant before settling down
for their morning naps.
The stock market opens in half an hour but
the futures market already shows the direction
of expectations, down.
European debt hangs heavy over the
continent and fear spreads to investors over
the world of coming defaults, now a reality
as governments fail to take the steps to deal
with their problems, but what can one expect
from politicians whose only answer is to try
and kick the can further down the street in hopes
that they may be praised for their leadership and
that we, the public, will acclaim their actions through
re-election and the naming of court houses and bridges
after them, telling our children of their wisdom and resolute
actions and forgetting the calamities that will befall us.
William Faulkner would be proud of that sentence.