Saturdays’ blankets
warm and cozy, coffee calls
such choice to start day
Owen Johnson writes in “The Lawrenceville Stories,” At seven o’clock every morning the rising bell fills the air with its clamor from the belfry of the old gymnasium, but no one rises. There is half an hour until the gong sounds for breakfast, a long delcious half hour – the best half hour of the day or night to prolong under the covers.
It was raining early this morning.
Warm bed and rain on the roof.
Pure luxury.
Maybe the pureist of luxury in its simple pleasure.
Mr. Faulkner wrote, “How often have Ι lain beneath rain on a strange roof thinking of home.”
All good until thoughts turn to coffee.
I could put the coffee maker up in the bedroom.
At least I think could get away with that.
But then I would need someone to …
That’s a slippery slope all of a sudden.
Stay with just being warm in bed with nothing to do.
Best half hour of the day.
No Haiku For You 