Sunday

Sunday again, end of  week  
bright sun, no rain for days  
yet  birds do not sing  
 neither do they feed .
On the radio a singer  
 from the past fills the  air,  
 notes used many times fresh as  
 new baked bread.  
Washing on line  
dog asleep on hearth  
 children in the garden  ..  ...  ...  
Potatoes in  trenches,  
brisket in the oven  
 Just like last week.  
Washing waits the mangle  
the dog awaits his walk.