Poetry
Sunday Morning
Offering Advice
I shift in the silken sheets, slowly finding my way back into this plane of reality. I woke to no alarm this morning, and that is a distinct pleasure. Soft sunlight peeks through the curtains and the possibilities stretch ahead with me as I extend my arms upwards.
Everything can move slowly today. I want to savor this freedom like handmade chocolate or honey swirled into my Sunday morning tea.
I will read and write without the heart palpitations of deadlines. My phone will stay silent and instead, I’ll be able to listen to the sound of birds in the absence of construction pandemonium.
On Sundays, I have experienced the slow creeping in of the unwanted next week — taken a peek into my crammed inbox to see if I could draft some responses in the hopes of setting my agitated mind to ease — of course, it didn’t work.
I couldn’t enjoy Sundays. I couldn’t see the forest for the trees.
So if you feel that way too, remind yourself that Sundays are meant to be enjoyed like sundaes, with chocolate and honey drizzled on top.
Don’t pick at the bones of your deadlines — let them rest in that coffin of an inbox that weighs so heavily on your overworked mind.
Enjoy your Sunday.
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