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.




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