Archive
06/28/10
Peaceful Sunday
"Peace" is the name God gave Sunday, Which, from day one, He intended to be the time man would set aside, to honor His works, Derive succor, take reassurance, Knowing that everything in His kingdom was harmonious, aligned, His grand design was to be abided by, through the generations, And that sun and moon would always divide light from dark, Lay down the boundaries between labor and sleep. "Peace" is the name God gave Sunday.
And peace was the pursuit I engaged in, all yesterday, From observing Sunday service at Camp Nebagamon for Boys, To breaking dinner bread on the deck of Lawn Beach Inn, Viewing majestic cascades of morphing clouds shape twilight, Keeping ten-o'clock vigil, on a bench at dock's end, To watching the waning-gibbous moon rise from the shoreline, Halfway between Honeymoon Point and Bumble's Bay, And fill the nocturnal welkin with a pastel orange-yellow glow That just kept going higher, brighter, wider, into the welcoming sky,
Until midnight touched my eyes, with its gentle fingertips, Bore me, on the quietest quartet of dragonfly wings, to bed, In my shore-nestled cabin by the tranquil lake, Where I'd spend the remainder of my humbling-day-of-rest slumber Suspended in a womb-web of serenity so soothing That by the time I awakened to this new day, this new week, I barely recognized Monday's child in me, its adolescent, The seven-decade sojourner into whom my spirit has evolved, Beckoning me to seed peace in the gaze of every stranger I meet.
06/28/10
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