Today's prompt was to write a poem inspired by an unusual idiom from another language.
From French - 'Faire la grasse matinee' - to sleep in, literally, to 'make a fat morning.' One of my favourite things to do...!
Fat Morning
The pillows lie buttered with light.
The stretch of morning infinite,
incandescent, indulgent-
from this vantage point
of time unspooled,
no longer thin but fat.
In the hours past 9am,
voluptuous laziness billows
like sheets drying on a line.
Each hour a fruit to be peeled
and savoured for its tangy sweet.
Read a book, snooze, doze
check the time, recline again -
gluttonous on the minutes unfolding,
the cosy comfort of duvet folds,
day on hold, sleep-sold.
Observe the day swell with possibility,
ripe for the living, without rush.
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