Mundane Revelation
After the eating of your homemade bread fresh from the oven, slathered in butter, we sit in descent of dusk with the Golden at our feet. Chopin’s nocturnes play softly. The dishwasher joins in concert with percussive ticking of the clock. While reading Light in August, you fall asleep in your recliner with me by your side in mine, recording the deep poetry of this mundane holy. tdlse August, 2018 |