☀️ The Sunday Start ☀️
Poem
Jim Gandolf
©️11162025
The calendar decrees, with quiet grace,
That Sunday claims the precedent place.
Not just a pause, a closing curtain call,
But the fresh foundation, the start of it all.
The world still sleeps, the horns are yet to blare,
A silver hush hangs in the morning air.
A sacred quiet, time to slow the pace,
The first day granted for the soul's embrace.
Why wait until the rush has taken hold?
Why save the peace until the tale is told?
Let calm preside upon the brand-new page,
To set the tone and wisdom for the age.
We build a bulwark of serenity now,
A gentle spirit, furrowed on the brow,
To gather strength, to let the mind unbend,
Before the six-day journey must extend.
Then comes the call, the sharp, insistent chime,
Of Monday's promise, Monday's steep climb.
The brief reprieve is happily resigned,
The week is waiting, tasks are close behind.
So thank the Sunday, golden, soft, and deep,
The peaceful vigil that we vow to keep.
The start that rests, the calm that clears the way,
Before we rise and meet the working day.
Jim Gandolf
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