The Saturday morning walk is
different from a weekday walk.
Some of the other dog walkers are familiar,
but the runners are not.
The streets are quieter,
with fewer people
on their way to work.
Today, it’s sunny
and the sounds of birds fill the air.
As does the staccatoed hammering
of the northern flicker
atop the telephone pole
excavating
a nest hole.
Sunday mornings
are surprisingly busier
as golf carts shuttle parishioners
to the white church
around the corner
and those fortunate to find parking
walk to the service.
But this Saturday morning
things are still quiet
as we mosey along
stopping to smell the flowers –
daffodils and crocuses –
that seem brighter than yesterday
on this sunny morning.
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