Day off

Although my work structure has changed into something more fluid, I well remember the "day off mode." 

On the days

He’s not supposed to be there

He parks on the street

And locks the door.

He does not dress

For work,

But works instead

In his gardening clothes.

We all play like this

As if God will not notice

Our transgressions,

Find out we are working

On our day off.

We all play like this

As if there is such a thing

As hiding from God,

As if God does not understand

Working

On Her day off;

As if God does not always work

In her Garden clothes;

Even on the Sabbath

She is available

In Her Garden clothes.

We forget sometimes.

We park on the street.

We lock the door.

The List

Fall has officially started.  I am making lists.  I began color-coding the calendar again last night.  I only have one teenager and one husband.  And then of course there*s me.  I figure when I have to add myself to the list right next to the parmesan cheese, perhaps it*s time to breathe and pray and, now that the weather is cooler, hold a hot cup of something in my hands.

This morning is to breathe in

Moments of Sabbath left over

From the weekend.

I started to make lists

Yesterday.

Whenever the list includes

Apologies for not remembering

Everyone*s new schedule at once

Or

Whenever I add things like granular

Parmesan cheese

As item number two…

I know it is time

To breathe in moments

Of Sabbath.

Sabbath is not

For the list.

Sabbath requires

No list at all.