Every Summer Day a Snow Day
No business casual to launder
or Monday to dread. Instead
a chance for firsts:
Unplanned puppies frolic
on the grass. Kiddie pools proliferate.
You chalk a kitty design on the driveway,
consider a mural on the wall.
Baby sparrows hover like hummingbirds.
Paper golden angels hang in the window.
You feed the twin hens.
Our son plants sunflower seeds,
requests Grandma’s sour cream cake.
I unearth a dusty recipe box.
We inflate our bike tires.
I knit a scarf, smell the peonies,
watch crows harass
a hawk in the treetops,
fly a kite, observe robins
in the birdbath, uncover
yeast in the cupboard,
bake bread, set the table
with red tulips, linger
over conversation, play scrabble
under the swamp oak
while drinking mint juleps.
8 thoughts on "Every Summer Day a Snow Day"
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This was very pleasant to read, I love the small details such as unearthing the dusty recipe box!
This is like an ode to retirement. A joyful poem.
A summary of these times that isn’t dark — refreshing!
Oh, the living we miss while at school and work.
What a gorgeous day! Thank you for sharing.
Thanks, Gaby. Now I know what to do when the 2000-piece jigsaw puzzle is finished!!
A list of ways to find joy in the little things! Love the details, the contentment!
Love this list, every single item.