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.