Fresh as hibiscus it came on horses
home again to gather forces
Frietag's thirst is slaked by Faulkner
playing quarters with strong porters
till the reluctant tuck at two.
Saturday dons my new, blue sweatshirt
(it feels so Yale) to fetch breakfast
Then the mid-hours a bit unsettled,
like the mid-years less 'spiration
the weather yuck as day-old biscuits.
Another Sunday the paper says
to church and wor su gai I do attend
the weekend hours shrunk too fast
I walked and read and blogged it past.