This is the Kind of Day

To hole up in

an old house

in Hattiesburg,

in front of

a roaring fire of gas logs

listening to

the lastest Beatles

or Simon and Garfunkel

and playing board

games for hours

cold weather

some sort of rich

pasta soup

on the stove

mom and my aunt

cooking

dad, my uncle

and a stray

bunch of us kids

at scrabble

and then monopoly

‘til we tire

and my uncle

tells us Beowulf

once again

it’s that kind of day