A day begun in holiness; chant us in to the living God,
Mystery downsized to our feeble icons swimming
through incensed fog, awakening senses
toward That which may be sensed.
To only worship One when
so many invite.
But now you and the sun (spelled S-U-N) are setting together, your pot-bellied feet
carving new niches beneath my knees as you nest into Uncle’s lap,
Mystery displayed in trampoline adventures
and a piece of chocolate cake shared
with That which may be hugged.
To always find One as
we say goodnight.