Grading on Sunday

September’s still hot,

even in early morning,

but the sun feels good

on muscles sore from yoga

as I drink coffee and grade

papers from last week,

slow and groggy on the porch,

as a dry breeze stirs

crepe-myrtle branches

hung heavy with bloom,

and mark the peaceful stillness

of the napping cat

stretched out in the small shadow

cast by snapdragons

and wonder if she

can simply think of nothing,

for my thoughts run everywhere,

like monkey-children

on a holiday from school,

and as their play escalates,

my work shifts to slow motion

in the Sunday warmth.

Copyright 2015

T. Allen Culpepper

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