April 4, 2020

Saturday morning,
The regular coffee is fresh,
Flavorful, more so than normal,
Maybe I’m paying more attention,
Since everything is so wrong right now,
That my brain is recalibrating,
Taking stock, losing its acceptance
Of the cushy life, the rat race,
Training, competitive spirit,
If for only the time it takes
To savor this regular coffee.

Saturday morning,
The skies are gray,
Lighter than before a storm,
Maybe I’m more discerning of grayscale
Since everything is so wrong right now,
My appreciation for the subdued light
Rising with the hope for rain
To wash the pollen away
Creating little currents of yellow
That will allow my eyes to stop itching
And my nose to stop running.

Saturday morning,
The same as Friday morning,
The fresh coffee indulgence,
They non-committal sky,
Mindfulness and allergies,
Each there just like yesterday
As new routines and habits
Become the new way.
Today will pass with another month
Of Saturdays
Before the old way returns.

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