Sunday

(can you find the days of the week in here?  They aren't in order.)

Birds flew by on the lemon day, when skies

were bright and yellow kites flew in serried array,

marshaled by orderly winds.  Day by day

I waited for you, twisting long grass in empty hands

while skaters danced in hip-hop, pop-up, rag-tag,

ones and twos.  Daylilies skirted the pond looking for you:

I had asked them for this one small favor.  Thirsty children

threw water balloons from the highest arc of swinging,

flinging rainbows to the four directions, but where were you?

I brought a dream of a picnic, a spread for the hungriest soul:

apple pie, chicken (fried!), acorn squash baked with berries.

Cherries.  Fresh cream.  It was your mouth I hungered for.

My house is in Saturn’s day and sadness will furnish each room.

You are not at the park

but I will bathe in the fountain tonight,

and let the moon kiss my perfect, silver skin.

I will wait here a week for you, my dearest light—

dancing until I feel some new day begin.  

 (rhonda palmer)