Sabbath

Saturday night, the start of my Sabbath,

I suddenly thought,

“I want color.”

So I spent a time spreading color,

Acrylics on a small canvas

I’d kept for some years.

The result was not what I’d hoped—

Colors not my favorite, with a canvas to keep.

But it was soothing, to listen to worship songs.

And I read poetry, 

A collection I’d grabbed on an impulse.

Robert Frost has many of my favorites,

But his earliest publication surprised me:

So many ghost poems! 

I had no idea.

And I almost quit, fearful I had read all the good ones.

But then came a poem so tremendously sweet,

I could do nothing but sit and quiver.

Then, for the first time in months,

I slept through the night.

Nine full hours.