Sunday Sonnet [Slothful and Tardy], #3, 2015

daily-grind

Eyes open at the sound of dawn: birdsong,

car horns, and alarm too loud for the hour.

We stretch, we yawn, rise up, take a shower;

we dress, we breakfast, lock up, and not long

after arrive at work, sit down to song

of day’s business.  Phones ring, with clear power

bosses direct – soft then loud – and glower.

Reprieve comes at lunch’s approach.  Ding-dong,

the hour strikes (the company’s town crier)

as colleagues en masse make for the hills – or

at the very least dash through rain, all for

a coffee removed from desk-bound.  Drier

in a flash, a long sip of café noir

restoring peace: brief calm before return.

[Copyright N R Nolan © 2015]

 

[Image by Ross Schatz]