shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

David Colodney

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Sunday Morning Poem

Sun rays like stripes cross through the blinds on the red wood floor,
the coffee maker gurgles and puffs. I walk outside to get the Post.
Bending over to pick up the paper gets harder each day. I breathe deep
the weather, hold it in my lungs, go back inside. The boys are still sleeping
in their rooms, they're home this weekend. You sleep too, wrapped
in blankets and hugging pillows, peaceful as outer space,
and as far away. I like the warmth of this circle. I think I'll sit
with the paper a bit and put a little extra sugar in my coffee.