Wistful Friday mornings
So lovely at week’s end,
Clarity of the earth around me,
As I stop to take it all in,
And feel it with tactile delight.

There is a character to each day,
Collectively across the years,
As we anticipate each
With joy or dread,
Based upon their meaning
Across the days of our lives.

I love Saturday mornings,
With coffee and paper in bed,
Lazy love at mid-morning,
Fishing shows on the television,
Dogs at the bedside
Get hugs.

Mondays are full of confusion,
Sorting the tasks so important to us,
The worry begins on Sunday evening,
What to wear,
My schedule,
Is there gas in the car?

On Thursdays we watch Survivor,
And mindless conversation ensues,
On Wednesday we think of Saturday
And rejoice that we are halfway there.

Sunday afternoons are for family,
In the quiet time after church,
The house smells of slow-roasted chicken,
We honor the law and rest.

Every day brings hope in the morning,
And often joy by the end of day,
Each is not without its challenges,
And rewards from both work and play.

Our days are best when they are simple,
When we take time to appreciate their gifts,
Time that we spend with our loved ones,
Which can make us so incredibly rich.