A Quiet Day of Rest
A quiet Sunday, with its first sun rays and shadows,
Ceasing to be such by a whirring of implements.
The tools wielded by the day of rest sideshows.
Pushers and blowers of the bible’s antithesis.
Not
To
Be
Judgmental
But
Imagine
The birds tweeting under cloudy or flaming skies;
Oaks, maples, and pines in quiescent sublimity;
And the bees buzzing, honeys stirring at sunrise.
All doors open, air out busy week, neighbors in unanimity.
Just
Imagine
The
Bee
Line
For
Church
The perfect didn’t wake up on the good side of the bed,
But they gather for Living Waters and the Bread of Life.
Down the street, in old-fashioned promenade, led
To listen to the Word of truth, praise God, let go of strife.
Gather
Like
The
Sons
Of
God
At
Dawn
Imagine, the coming week begins with Sabbath rest.
The restless wanderer sits on the porch with lemonade,
Ruminates with kith and kin, weariness addressed.
What wonders of hope and joy, conquers the world, unafraid
With
A
Quiet
Day
Of
Rest
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