Friday Afternoon

Nothing smells like a Friday afternoon

The cusp between work and recline

When responsibility hands it off to freedom

And leaves rustle from collective exhalation of sighs

Of relief

Followed by a deep intake of anticipation

A tendril of woodsmoke on the wind

Stirs campfire memories and Fridays that meant camping out

Putting up the tent in the dark

Half cut, saying don’t worry we’ll fix it in the morning

Or Fridays that smelled like the cornerstore

Stepping through the door to sugared treasures

Your allowance in your pocket and it smells like a promise

Because Friday afternoons smell promising

And if the rewards are sometimes stingy

There’s still the next Friday afternoon

To win that lottery

Nothing smells like a Friday afternoon

When you’ve been paid and you’re finally ahead

Even the grocery store is more fragrant on a Friday

And Friday afternoon smells like getting ready for a date

Hunters and prey precociously preening

Waiting for the race to begin

On a Friday afternoon that smells like hope

Smiling at the audacity of limitless expectations of promise

So breathe deeply on Friday afternoons

Inhale the scent

Let it fill you with happiness

Nothing smells like a Friday afternoon

 

 

David Trudel  © 2013

 

 

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