In a Month of Sundays

All this time without the sight of you has been bright, quiet, sweat-free, with only the distant tolling of bells morning after morning to remind me that somewhere people might be rising & kneeling together, intertwining the fingers of their left & right hands & bowing their heads over them, intoning the joyful syllables of reunion. The moon has rounded its full cycle from dark to dark all the while this single day has kept replaying, like a peppy song on heavy rotation, & I have set the noontime table as well as a guy who lives alone can do. It’s been so long! Here, have a seat. Join me in my vigil for that stranger, the Monday blues.