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Sunday, 3 May, 2020

At least today has felt like Sunday - well,
So far as days can feel themselves right now -
Six episodes of Columbo in a row,
Some Haydn string quartets to cast a spell
While writing poetry. And then the smell
Of coffee in the moka pot, and how
Peaceful it's been without the builders' row
Since they've stopped turning Sundays into Hell.
But isn't every day a bit like this
(The builders notwithstanding) now there's no
Depressing thoughts of work next day to sour
Sundays and Wednesdays alike? I miss
The shape time used to have: the curving flow
Of different flavoured days, hour after hour.
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