Monday as Saturday

Today I am newly grateful for regular things made larger by their regularity:  my beloved and daughter are asleep upstairs, the trappings of Christmas are still in place.  The regular Saturday after Christmas was cracked open, and now it has appeared on Monday.  I sit in my writing chair, coffee in hand.  I am thankful.

It feels like the Saturday

We didn’t have last week.

I sit in the chair

In front of the Christmas tree,

The stone crèche

Beside it.

In our crèche

The wise folk

Have already arrived,

The sun shines full

Through the window

And

Best of all

The whole rest of the family

Sleeps sound

Upstairs.

Soon

The daughter will  come downstairs,

Complain again

We did not pick up the house

After Christmas.

I will probably laugh.

It feels like Saturday

Normal Saturday

Except instead

It is the beginning

Of a potential week

Of Saturdays.

The tree and crèche will stay up

All week.