Sunday Evening

Ten on Sunday evening, a lonely time,

sitting on the porch steps as the night

begins to cool, though there’s no wind,

unusual for Oklahoma, nearly perfect calm.

Cat sacked out on the walkway rolls

over onto her back in total relaxation,

stretches methodically, one leg at a time.

Stars fleck the sky, visible tonight despite

the illumination of houses, city streets.

It has been a good day, but solitary;

the solitude agreeable at first, but

now grown tiresome at day’s end,

when I most crave the comfort of touch.

There comes a sadness that would be

beautiful in literary narration, but

whose beauty’s less evident from

inside the experience itself.  It’s

that reflective time between the

weekend and the week when old

mistakes return like ghosts and

new anxieties take hold like demons.


Copyright 2013

T. Allen Culpepper


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