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...!
The pillows lie buttered with light.
The stretch of morning infinite,
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.