Saturday Morning

This morning wrapped in my indolence
I sat by a pool of sunshine
while two wrens discussed their affairs
and a small boy argued with himself,
dandelions broke the news of slow growth,
wind nudged the grass and laughed
up a drainpipe. I hid the pencil 
that adds up work and turned my mind
out to pasture when a woodpecker
on my steel ridgepole raised such a
whooping-tattoo I wondered why
what I heard made me feel guilty.