Fine Day

John Atkinson

Time lam,
Lying motionless, awake
Listening to the sounds of breathing bodies.
What's the weather going to be?
A wave of anticipation like a sea
Goes surging through your bones.
Quietly you pad across the floor,
The door creaks as you step outside.
Cold hits momentarily
But soon is gone, as you gaze up
At the vast array of stars,
And the friendly yellow moon.
"She's going to be a beauty"
You murmer to yourself, And deep inside,
In this brief moment
One feels the very joy
Of living.