Sunday slowly descends onto the balcony,

A boat of sunshine on the clothesline.

An old song on the radio thumps on the tin,

The cat yawns, writing down the map in his sleep.

I cut off the chase from the calendar today,

Spread the unfinished silence on the table.

Warm clouds in a cup of tea, a small river in steam,

The wind fills the pages of a book.

The city is roaring outside, the soft sun inside,

The hands of the clock learn to walk like little feet.

I stop for a minute and see that everything is fine,

Who knew that there would be so much peace?

The sun draws a light signature on the window glass:

Today's lesson is to be slow and be destined.