Sunday Morning ….a list poem


hopes regrets duke it out
sleeps grabs purse steps out
albino squirrel hastens withdraws
usual plays on deck staircase
teapot whistles readiness
boiling up a commotion
I groggily stand upright
grabbing tall mug for tea
fingers fumbling for favorite
cookie in ritual tea dunking
eyes clear as shaken head
settles to even keel
pillow mussed tousled hair
fall in place at own pace
dregs in cup tell no tales
relieved bereft I sigh amidst
normal inner gurgles
spilling laughter leaking
from joyous inner spirit
whooshing out genie
astride Fall’s broomstick
to begin “pottering”
about this lazy laid back
New York Sunday morning
bina gupta 9.25.16




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