Choosing Presence

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Choosing Presence

On Monday I will wake up, pour myself
a mug, read a page or two before
I realize the time. The towel on the shelf
will dance just out of reach—I’ll wet the floor
then dress despite the shower-sweats. Dawn-light
will tango with the kitchen dust, and I 
will think about my lesson plan, find
the shirt to match the pants, tie the tie
a few times, guessing length.
And it will be
a Holy-Day, a Sabbath—if I will rest 
in presence, dine the utter mystery 
of Mondays, worship shower-sweats and dust
and other fragments of a truth too whole 
to hold complete, behold in full—if I 
will dig and deeper-delve the layered loam 
of being.

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