Sunday After Brunch (A Sonnet)

Exiting the glass-and-steel hotel Where Mom had just regaled us with a brunch As newlyweds, so we’d be toasted well, I felt my raincoat whispering a hunch. That stylish wrap between the world and me Said “Look out at this slate-grey, drizzly day.” So, fumbling for our borrowed Jaguar’s key, I gazed out toward the park across the way. Suddenly, for a moment then, time froze, Soul bridging body, coat, car, buildings, rain In absolute perfection and repose. Then I walked on, and time began again. I met you at the car, and you described The selfsame vision you had just imbibed.