I wake slowly into my old age,
into my room full of books and morning tea,
into my yard full of horses and dogs
and trees and blue sky.
My door stays open to birdsong
and the cooling breezes of autumn.
Dogs wander in and out, with loving eyes
and lolling tongues.
I breathe in this morning
of my inevitable evening,
grateful before nightfall for the many gifts
of being alive on the planet.
I relish fall as if it is my last,
aware that winter's icy blasts
will surely follow,
that snow and ice will cover
the summer garden.
Outside, busy, hurried life swoops by.
Inside, the silence is thick and syrupy,
dripping into my psyche
like a single drop
into a pool that ripples outwards
towards the sea that is you,
on the other side of this screen.
I travel nowhere, yet visit the world
by tapping the magic keys of my kingdom.
Each day is a gift, whose slow pace I relish.
I only want more and more
of these long, slow,
sweetly meandering days.
Boredom is never an issue.
for Sumana's prompt at Midweek Motif: Boredom