I dust off a lawn chair, step out

into air that's fresh.  I stretch my legs,

relax, my denim capris drawing warmth

from  3 o'clock sun.  I wiggle my toes,

count 20 minutes of sunshine 

When in past years I scrambled

to  get numbers together—in time

to give to Caesar what is Caesar's,

but days ago I balanced the scales.

Today I breathe in springtime,

delight in red-petaled tulips,

a purple hyacinth,

the excited chattering of birds. 

A lively breeze stirs grass,

leaves; awakens blossoms

on flowering crab trees,

bringing whiffs in the offing.

Swirling, it brushes my face,

tousles my hair—ah,

 I take five minutes more—   

to give God what is God's.  

This poem first appeared in St. Anthony's Messenger (April, 2012).
Used here with the author's permission.