Sunday 2.24p

It’s a Sunday. A grey day. The breeze blows in a storm. A small one. Not forever until the sun comes again but enough to say, Stay. Inside. On the couch. With your dog. Watch the redwood branches bend as they will - sway in guilt as they do but it’s my problem. To love them and both buzz them. To a stud on some but most remain. I bought some courtesy of their other mother. Someone who wanted screen for things and I. We. Want a Sunday.