saturday

-jeffery mcnary

saturday's octave holds long notes, wearing its tasteful

simple boa and brocade to market place and square

alarmless and crisply fashionable…

and lunch as well it suggest

its chimes are playful as if not to hesitate nor stay

its glances freshly painted, its new smiles launched

by seamed legged scented women with aria eyes

come to charm and sue for lead singers with beauty with bounce

darting and teasing the diverse tribes
there sparkling and eager to begin with

like sketched images reaching for the tasteful
exploring the vogue of it all

the undaunted down in the village wear jeans today
while sipping coffee like ghosts searching for the psychic,
highlighting typos while looking for luck
or some muse or the other in whose wake to swim

saturday, a sweetness of things not yet invented
a sweetheart gently tugging secrets and whispers from babel
aloud, with store bought goods and glimpses of the festive

shades of the day have a way of pardoning both
careless and remarkable
soul-quenching and straightening out feelings

we’ll hear it’s song again
with its jingling dreams held in our arms like our own
and its promise of what that means