Between Classes

I strolled straight out the door,
my mind mulling over my next activity.
Yet, when I stepped from under the overhang,
the sun confronted me, heating my dark curls
and forcing reevaluation of my plans.

I pondered my way to the weathered, gray table.
It is small and square, its bolts rusted red,
and the inbetweeness of its slats choked with moss.
My nose is filled with the smell of freshly shorn grass.
There is an amber wasp navigating the clover,
and the ants are scrambling into each other
as they each carry their own grain of sand
to fortify and secure before the storm.
The clouds too are present in this piece of peace.
But they are so far to the east now
and over me is only see-through blue
with the sun cockeyed in Joshua's sky.

My thoughts are disrupted by the monarch
that is flitting lightly over my shoulder
and around behind me as if inviting me to twirl.
Life, demanding and scheduled, is pulling me harshly
with a gravity I created and now despise.
Goodbye Day, I must return to the fluorescents.