Do the trees know the days of the week?

Do the trees know the days of the week? 
If not, why do I always sneeze more on Monday? 

After a violent sneeze this morning
I stumped my toe on a rock that slept next to my bed
Having snuck its way into my bedroom after a hike
It was a reconnaissance scout and I am a giant in the land. 
After screaming and accusing, I threw the rock in the plastic trash bucket 
Raging, I burned the bucket. 
I didn’t want vengeance. I wanted power. 

The rock, ever the sage for me, respected the fire.
So I took the rock home, this time a welcomed guest 
I prepped the room for it, made it a bed, prepared a welcome speech  
The smile on my face blasted louder than a welcome band of trumpeters. 
And then I set the rock there, I its servant and it my honored guest. 
I sat down, in submission and reverence.
The rock settled into a sabbath rest, in my bedroom below the still camellias on my window sill. 
At this point the trees began to sing--a low, mellow, approving song. 

And I began to sneeze again. 
It was Monday. 

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