The Slow Wisdom of Sunday

Humans treat Sundays strangely.

They wake up slowly.

Move slowly.

Think slowly.

This morning the little human

stood again

looking at his socks.

One blue.

The other… still not.

For a moment

he considered the problem.

Then he shrugged

and pulled them on anyway.

From the corner

I approved.

Sundays understand something

humans often forget.

Not everything

needs to match.

Not socks.

Not plans.

Not even days.

Some days

are simply meant

to be slow.

Tomorrow

the humans will hurry again.

But today

is a good day

for mismatched socks.

Notes by Mr. Monsterʘʘ