getting up early while everyone is still asleep and going for a bike ride on streets that pass sibilant beneath my wheels.
Sundays are fine for taking the paper out on the porch under the shade of our elm tree and sitting and reading while the birds sing the neighbors awake.
Sundays are fine for watching basketball, for listening to blues at a beach side dance club, for whiling a way the time ’til Monday comes and its back to waiting for next Sunday.
