After I read up on it and rolled some ideas around in idle moments of distraction this afternoon, I settled on thoughts for Monday, my most despised day of the week. Here’s Monday’s Lune:
eight o’clock Monday,
a mean time.
Four o’clock, mellow.
Writing such compact ditties could become addictive, since days and hours are so filled with work and duty that the long periods of mental freedom required for longer composition just aren’t there.