Home
Up
Wanting
To the editor of The Sun
Snoozing in my Chair
Remembering That First Kiss
Lost to the Clouds
"I'm Old," he said
My Visit with the Director of Lawrence Radiation Lab
Plodding Down the Path
Read To Me
Mammogram
Tax Time
Prosopagnosia
On Being Fully Alive
Rats
John
If I Should Die Before I Wake
Theme Song Nostalgia
Fight or Flight or
Minor Island
Landings II and III
The Sun on Me in the Morning
Missing Pieces
Living Simply
Voices
I Had a Brother, Once
The Wild One
Insurance
The Cost of Health Care
Popular Music
Sleeping Beauty
Full Moon
Are We Connected
Concert for George
Zoe Moon
An Opportunity to Feel
Over the River and Through the Woods
Saving Daylight
Garage Sale
Pushing On
My Little Town
Grasping
Memory
The West Wing
Everything is Impermanent
Muscles
Dawn
Gaslight
Emotional Habits
My Shadow
The Power of Eyes
Being a Vegetarian
She Blushed
The Mouse in the Basement
Passion
Mind and Matter
Do You Love God
Writer's Lament
Releasing Dreams
Relating to Cats and
Free as a bird
Silk Scarf
Alice at 21
Alice Evelyn King Skiff
Cookies & Milk
Animals in Mountains

Snoozing in my Chair

After lunch,
After tea,
After reading the same paragraph three times,
Leaning back in the chair,
The book slack on my lap. 

The cats also snooze
In their spots somewhere in the quiet,
Only the droning of a lawn mower
Outside,
Sunlight on the maple tree
That is changing clothes
From green to gold-brown 

A million crickets in my head
That I hear sometimes,
Tho I know
They are always there,
Katydids, maybe,
A chorus that never stops
Except when I sleep.
I think. 

A warm afternoon
In October.
It ought to be cold by this time of year,
My life ought to be winding down,
Looking at winter,
Letting go
Instead of reading Steven Pinker
About the language instinct.

 

Donald Skiff, October 8, 2007

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