Sabbath

Yesterday's poem of the day from Knopf was Marge Piercy's "Wellfleet Shabbat." So nice. My favorite verse:

The sweet beeswax candles flicker and sigh, standing between the phlox and the roast chicken. The wine shines its red lantern of joy.

Today, just a couple of lines about today's Sabbath time. Today was not a complete Sabbath---Robert ended up working on taxes for a couple of hours in the middle of the day. I'm sure it will all end up as book fodder, but I lack the mental energy to put it all together right here and now. So here are a few images from the day.

The day begins--- not with bells and stumbling rapidness, but with little feet padding in, little bodies folding themselves into the bed.

And then, a day spent nibbling on this and that, a buffet in time: the newspaper, knitting and beer brewing, card games and a dollar movie. Squabbling over two sinking helium balloons. Colored paper Easter eggs, hidden in plain sight for a little brother. Waffles for dinner. At bedtime, another chapter of The Secret Garden--- Mary finally made it inside the locked door and the girls don't want to stop.