Sabbath

Yesterday’s poem of the day from Knopf was Marge Piercy’s “Wellfleet Shabbat.” So nice. My favorite verse:

The sweet beeswax candles flicker
and sigh, standing between the phlox
and the roast chicken. The wine shines
its red lantern of joy.

Today, just a couple of lines about today’s Sabbath time. Today was not a complete Sabbath—Robert ended up working on taxes for a couple of hours in the middle of the day. I’m sure it will all end up as book fodder, but I lack the mental energy to put it all together right here and now. So here are a few images from the day.

The day begins—
not with bells and stumbling rapidness,
but with little feet padding in,
little bodies folding themselves into the bed.

And then, a day spent nibbling on this and that,
a buffet in time:
the newspaper,
knitting and beer brewing,
card games and a dollar movie.
Squabbling over two sinking helium balloons.
Colored paper Easter eggs, hidden in plain sight
for a little brother.
Waffles for dinner.
At bedtime, another chapter of The Secret Garden
Mary finally made it inside the locked door
and the girls don’t want to stop.

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One thought on “Sabbath

  1. Jeanny House says:

    Oh! I wouldn’t want to stop either! What a lovely day it sounds like.

    My brother and sister-in-law read The Secret Garden to my niece when she was about 3. I was visiting them and we were going somewhere in the car when she pointed out the window and cried, “There’s Robin Redbreast! He’s my very best friend!”

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