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 pour, 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.