Monday, December 12, 2011

Nine more days

I remember a small boy in a parish I served years ago.  Ben was 3, the same age as my son that year.  As I was putting finishing touches on my Christmas sermon, Ben and his father appeared in my office doorway.  It was almost evening.  Ben wants to show me a particular spot of dark he found (his father explained), it*s somewhere in the building but he doesn*t remember exactly where.  And then they left, down an already darkening hallway, to find that particular piece of dark.  I often think of Ben and his dad, at this time of year, looking for a particular spot of dark, and looking for it together.

We stopped saving daylight later this year.
I am still not accustomed
To regular time.
Perhaps it is not really
Evening finds me craving bedtime
Under the covers
Until I can drink morning coffee
In full light.
People ask if my schedule
Is full.
For accounting purposes,
It isn*t.
The light winds down,
And my schedule
With it.
For accounting purposes:
Nine more days to wind down.
Nine more days to notice
How dark it can get
Before turning
To light.
Before turning
Once again
To Light.

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