This many words
( or)
This many pages
(or)
These many slides
(and)
This much gas
(to take us)
This many miles
That much cereal
(with)
This much milk
(or)
That much yogurt
(for the fussy)
That kind of toast
(and here’s my reward)
Plus a Pop Tart
Is it brown sugar cinnamon?
he asks me
as if it ever would be
any other kind.
This many minutes left
(before)
we must leave.
(Wait!)
Mass down the street
is just letting out.
Wait another five minutes
(to)
back the car out safely.
We will get there
five minutes later
(but)
I’ll really still be early.
O God!
I try to have
a cosmic mind
open to You
your Spirit
your Word
(but)
Sundays with a family
are calculating Sundays.
This many people offended
(by)
talk of news stories
(or)
civil rights
(or)
the church’s future.
That many deep breaths
before I say any of it.
Thus and so many
handshakes
(and)
no real comments
(but)
do I really want them?
After church,
the drive home
takes us
(by)
the supermarket:
this many corn chips,
that much milk,
so many bananas,
one bag of coffee,
(but)
tonight we order pizza,
(and)
give thanks
the day is over.
Amen.
You are brilliant! A shining star seeing into our worlds, sharing our thoughts, expressing our hearts.
Bless you x
I freakin’ love this. Seriously.
There are Sundays like that. Thank God for all the others that make up for this kind.