Saturday morning,
a mug of coffee stands by;
smell the aroma.
Words are stuttering,
they jumble in confusion,
known but not spoken.
An excellent day,
the sun shines as it should do,
warm with a light breeze.
Music all around,
but there’s not a single sound,
as they count it in.
I played just one note,
and let it ring, for awhile,
to see how it sounds.
There is a full moon,
tonight around 8 pm,
they say it is pink.
