A weekly dose of Sabbath does not send me backwards
towards some primal beginning,
Genesis chapters 1-2 dimly remembered.
Rather,
it gives me a day, sundown to sundown
to participate again in present reality.
To bathe again in holy waters,
spirit rain
reigning once again,
soaking the mundane in soul.
Giving cracked lips and parched tounge
a fore-drink of heaven.
Ah!
So pleased to renew our acquaintance!
Poems by Ken 