This is called "Against Whatever It Is That's Encroaching."
And it's a poem about Thursday.
And today, I think it's Thursday unless I'm completely wrong.
So it does seem very appropriate, right?
And on Thursday, one should read poems about Thursdays, right?
"Against Whatever It Is That's Encroaching."
"Best of all is to be idle, and especially on a Thursday,
and to sip wine while studying the light, the way it ages,
yellows, turns ashen, and then hesitates forever
on the threshold of the night that could
be bringing the first frost.
It's good to have a woman around just then,
and two is even better.
Let them whisper to each other and eye you with a smirk.
Let them roll up their sleeves and unbutton their shirts
a bit as this fine old twilight deserves.
And the small schoolboy who has come home
to a room almost dark and now watches wide-eyed.
The grownups raise their glasses to him.
The giddy-headed, red-haired woman with eyes tightly
shut as if she were about to cry or sing.