DAY OF REST

Oh you thought a day of rest was meant for Sundays?  I am sorry to say that that means little to a lot of people.  That is another discussion.  I mean today I have nothing on tap and I need a day of rest with nothing pushing me.  Except that pesky poem for the December Villager.  I have already done one for the Library board.  I have one verse written although I am not really pleased with it, I know what I want to say--just can't put it into verse.  Maybe it will turn into an essay. Sometime my solution.

I woke at the usual time.  It was so pleasant on the balcony as I had a second cup of coffee there.  It was so quiet and just cool enough to enjoy.  The birds began to converse and a family of ducks floated silently on the lake.  Mr. Egret was looking for breakfast, and a lone figure came walking around the lake.  I watched as she came closer and I saw it was Barbara my maid.  Our help is welcomed to walk any time.  But here she was before she started her day of work walking.  Good for her.    More later.

Betty Boop