By C. J. Stegall-Evans
It’s a beautiful day outside and the birds are singing. It must be wonderful to be that carefree. The clouds are spread out over the sky like mayonnaise on a sandwich. It’s a good look for a Sunday sky. A few birds float by, it seems they know its Sunday and have decided to take it easy too. The rhythm of the all cricket chorus is slower than usual. The cars are going too fast, haven’t they heard of Sunday driving.
I got on the computer to do research for an hour this morning and proceeded to work the day away. I meandered outside early evening and decided to spend the rest of the day in peace and celebrate the quiet Sunday sky.
It’s getting a bit chilly out but I cannot go in because I don’t want this day to end. I want to remember this evening as if it were a painting. I always try to save up good memories no matter how small because they come in handy on those rare days when I can’t seem to see through the fog.
The weekend is almost gone but I’m taking the time to savor the outer recesses of it. I watch the clouds spread like mayonnaise across the sky and am amused when a little nose pops up in the center. The little nose wants to smell the fresh air of the Sunday sky.
© 2010 by C. J. Stegall-Evans (All Rights Reserved)
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