Sunday After Brunch (A Sonnet) Poem by Max Reif

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.