Caught

I only meant to sit for a minute,
but I leaned back and
felt the breeze skip over my skin and ruffle my hair.
I closed my eyes and felt the sun's early morning light
warming the back of the chair.

It was all over after that;
the chair kept calling me back,
first to finish--the rest of the coffee, the last chapters of the book.
The sun crept around the corner of the house
to finish warming my winter-chilled toes.

Later I found myself in the chair again;
it wasn't planned, but it happened anyway,
this time to start--the next book, the first of the summer ice cream cones.
The breeze danced across the porch,
tempering the heat of afternoon sun.

I only meant to sit for a minute,
but I leaned back and
slowly but surely, between the warm sun and gentle breeze
pieces of a whole day slid by in that chair
at the end of the porch.