The hush Friday at Sundown
Makes me wish that I’d been ready.
The face of darkness slowly rests on me.
The hours turn eternal,
Mindful of the fullness,
As night reveals the hidden, seventh day.
Morning breaks this sabbath dawn,
Yet nothing could be more holy.
The great kindled fire in the eastern sky
Paces more than the numbered stairs,
But creeps on imperceptibly, the amaranth now descending—
Not even the ants are droning!
So why do I feel that the rapture’s come
Leaving all of me unprepared?
-jenn long
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