mondaymornings

monday morning,
one's gone to school,
when night still clings
and the house is cool,
before the sun sits high;
she takes my hand,
walk in the yard,
see the flowers,
smell the blooms,
name them too,
bear water to
their roots;
at the table
we sit and
chat,
she's alive!
lively!
joyous, rejoicing,
full of fun;
grows faster than a garden,
she's brighter than the sun,
sweeter than any flower,
like all good things
rolled into one.
so at the kitchen table,
we question
and we laugh,
cups of tea,
ended book,
crayons, paper
she counts,
then recounts
the ABCs;
monday morning
comes and goes,
quiet,
gentle,
peacefully slow.

A.