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