A Day For Relaxing

there is an internal laziness about the tree That inspires my pen to dance along the side of my page My muse attempts to make a grab for it Let it be I caution her She can be so controlling sometimes the leaves are tittering from silver to green squirrels are running round her trunk Their fluff tails delighting my writer’s heart What about? The muse asks me. I shake my head This is a day for relaxing, for appreciating, for being Not a day for forcing words or punctuation. Bird speak is in the air. Cardinals and robins, wrens too. I sit back and relax, feeling the sun on my face. Unconcerned about skin cancer or commas.