On a weekday my window is dressed in slatted blinds,
My sight becomes tunnel-vision and narrows down my mind:
I squint at the sky to see if I can wear what I like,
I peer at the road and decide to ride my bike,
The clock’s hand races — is lifted in a victory- punch–
I throw together a sandwich for my hurried lunch.
But today is a holiday – my time is my own;
My window is wide open, my clock has slowed down,
I see a blue sky , and blooms on the tree
My mind unspools , new thoughts range free:
Were these new ideas born in the free air and space
Or did they crystallise in the pressure of the daily rat-race?
I do need pincer-grips of work to smash together ideas and thought
To release an outpouring of the creative energies I’ve sought?
Without a substratum of busy routine, I find–
I am stuck in the doldrums of my lethargic mind!