In Praise of Loafing

It must have been long ago that

loafing fell from favor,
splashing into the deep end of ill repute.
A victim of the times, left there 
bobbing in the pool, face down. 

Gone are the days when I cast a younger shadow,
when I dared loll in the grass and watch the clouds
reinventing themselves just for me. 
Now the world yells that we are late and don't have time for that.

My eyes always liked that old picture
of Walt Whitman staring back from the page.
His eyes earnest yet relaxed; a hand on his hip, 
wondering if you can find what he did.

He seems to be almost confused by us chasing our tails, 
kicking up so much dust over nothing 
and really needing so very little.

With a comfortable hat pushed back on his head,
he questions us with a Will Rogers smirk on his face.
I’m sure he found the truth.

Where's the wrong in musing and watching the world go by?
Time to loaf, to ponder and think
sounds delicious on so many summer days.