Marilyn’s Sunday Morning

I got up very early and thought that I would write

Of this November dawning while it still was dark as night.

I sat quietly in my leather chair with Sammy at my feet

And Jack, our Weimaraner, looking to me for a treat.

With my journal in my lap and pen gently tapping at my chin

I gazed out of my window and felt gentle darkness peeping in.

A peaceful reverie ensued, my pen dropped to my journal

Jack settled down upon the rug as my mind played with thoughts, eternal.

When next I glanced about me the darkness had turned gray,

And I started thinking strongly of a brisk ride to start my day.

With a last sweep of my pen I finished my latest entry.

Jack ran to the pantry door and stood there like a sentry.

I soon passed out the doggy treats sought by Sam and Jack

Then grabbed Indy and me a bite to eat and left, not looking back.

My horse, Indy, heard me coming and nickered his delight,

Reaching for his carrots as though he had waited for them all night.

A quick brush down and saddle up amid some gentle talk,

Then I jumped into the stirrups and we launched upon our walk.

I looked up at the bright blue sky, smiling back clear as gin;

And felt myself in heaven, as I was riding out – again.

- Harlan E. Finnemore

Harlan E. Finnemore (a.k.a. Old Ug) is a retired engineer who dabbles in poetry while enjoying life in Salmon, Idaho.