Halvard Johnson
Afternoon Sonnet
 

One afternoon, my lady and I, we laid ourselves down
for a nap beneath skylight windows that looked up
at blue sky. Drowsing off as she read, I felt I was at
an afternoon movie, walking down the long walkway

until we could see stadium seats stretching up and up
as though forever—all empty. We sat down, stretched out
our legs, relaxed, taking it easy—thinking, oh, how nice,
a private screening all to ourselves. Nothing like it. Then,

of course, the bag lady arrived, choosing, as always, to sit
just behind us, rummaging in her bags all through the show.
The rummaging turned to a whirring of wings, a humming-
bird up above me, trying for light and air, finding only glass.
 
Perched on a broom, it flew off when I carried it out. Now
dozens come every nap time, each crying out to be saved.