I wasted my Saturday talking to friends and thinking about fear and the future.
It was wasted preparing for Sunday, when I helped sew my quilt.
I wasted it wandering through a gallery looking at art.
I dallied over my lunch in the city as I people-watched.
For this wasted day I marveled at the exhibition of big, old books at the State Library.
I wasted my day running through the rushing water during a down poor, not wishing for my umbrella.
Sodden, I faced the sky and laughed in the rain as others sheltered under eaves.
I listened to the thunder crack overhead and kept going.
I wasted my day.