On Sunday
my spirit softens
awakens slowly—
like an old, tired dog,
stretching to greet
an uncomplicated day,
shifting its weight and releasing
a long yawn—its tongue
hanging loosely
without a care.
Somewhere in a corner,
a phone rings,
a human jumps in reaction.
The dog hunkers into
a patch of sunlight, gleaming
through the window,
warming the rug.
Nestling its head down
into its soft, furry paws,
waking only
to perk up its
ears and listen.