Nowhere To Be But Here

Part I: The Shutdown

Time is slowing down,
days are stretching out.
Contentment fills the cracks
that once were filled with doubt.

Nowhere to be but here.

The morning light
wanders in
and directs us when to rise.
We busy ourselves
with bowls of blueberries
and books about bunnies who fly.

We forget about yesterday,
stop worrying about tomorrow.
We feel the heaviness of today
but refuse to wallow in sorrow.

We sit and watch.
We listen to the birds.
Life thickens all around us.
There is no need for words.

All we need is here.

***

Part II: What Sunday Knows

No alarms, no pants,
no promises of plans
Sam Cooke serenades
sudsy dishwater hands

Folding towels and raking branches
we tidy up our nest
torn flannels and worn out t-shirts
this is our Sunday Best

Moseying around
dozing to the sounds
of sweet chirps and leaf blower bellows
taking slow walks
counting the clouds
minding the mood as it mellows

When Saturday ends
we give in to the sabbath
this is how Sunday goes…
We rest;
it‘s what keeps us all moving
the secret only Sunday knows.

About the author: Samantha Ashe resides in Washington, USA, and can be found on Instagram at @ssssamjam

Thanks, A. B.