the saturday morning lottery

troubled slumber breaks apart as the sun slashes the steel slivers sneaking through the sky. a chance of rain cooled off the night at late hours, but not before the neighborhood frenzy of young people wild in the streets threatened chances of an early morning rise. but the fatigue a sledgehammer brings is not easily conquered, and also there has been a funeral. I served respectfully as I have many times before with hands on the box; not my own kin but close to one who is closest to my heart. during the weekdays it is a new kind of peace, this routine. it tames the day into less of a shock; it is moments of meditation and rivers of coffee. but saturdays are different. sometimes there is other work to be done. sometimes there is thunder and love, sometimes there is smoke sneaking out of the basement from the lips of tired-eyed flower waiting to bloom. she struggles against the day and the heat...the smothering sweating heat I love. oh let it last just a little longer, please.