hello, boss?
i’m not coming in today.
sick?
no, not quite.
you see,
i awoke to the birds
singing happily
outside my window,
to a florid sun
yawning beautifully on the horizon.
i want to walk barefoot
through dew-soaked tongues
of morning grass
and watch butterflies
take first flight.
i want to drink my tea
beneath the elm in our backyard
while wind makes the chimes sing.
i want to make love
to my wife in the sunlight -
our atavistic flesh
fueled by the breath
of forgotten gods.
i want to drink red wine
and write poetry about
drinking red wine.
i want to watch my wife
paint naked emotion -
her meticulous eye for detail
lost in wonderful abstraction.
i want to wrap myself in music
and float into the treetops
sharing my song with the birds.
sick?
oh no.
quite the opposite, indeed.
i’ve never felt better.
sick day
by Tim Morris