The Sunday Girl skips through the seasons and wonders if
Sunday follows Saturday, or is it, rather, a prelude to Monday?
Her Spring Sundays are filled with morning light and birdsong, while
Summer Sundays come in strong, hot, and hazy, wearing everyone out
The Autumn Sundays arise slowly, and glint orange and crimson at our eyes, but the
Winter Sundays, oh, those winter Sundays are the shortest, with glistening white crusty snow beneath bare trees, while kitchens are filled with baking aromas. All gather for nightfall dinners, followed by glowing fireplaces. Winter Sundays are cozy, and she claims extra blankets.
A/N: Created for a Sunday post based on Mikeydred's prompt of: Share a story, yours or someone else's, related, however tenuously, to the phrase "Sunday Girl"
Copyright © 4/18/2026 by Andrea O. Corwin Thanks for stopping by! 😃 If you like ♡ my scribbles, hit the subscribe button. Please consider leaving a comment. ✍️❤️
About the Creator
Andrea Corwin
🐘Wildlife 🧘♀️ 🖋️🈷️ 3rd°🥋 See nature through my eyes and photos.
Poetry, haiku, fiction, horror, life experiences. Written without A.I. © Andrea O. Corwin
bigcats4ever.bsky.social
Threads/ Instagram @andicorwin
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