Growls or barks me from my easy sleep,
Dragging from my lips a groan, or sometimes worse,
Because a wind-blown branch is tapping at the house,
Or the neighbor dog is yelling out his worries to the moon.

Sometimes in the middle of the night, the dog
Moves from his place at our feet
To the valley between you and me,
Settles atop the comforter,
Lays his shaggy head upon my chest,
And sighs a deep, contented sigh
To say he is part of the pack, happily at rest.

Sometimes in the middle of the night I remember
That humans aren't the only family members.

Convicted and condemned, I hang
Upon a cross of wood .
With me my co-conspirator
And a rabbi, one reputed good.
I hear the rabble mocking him;
This teacher crowned with thorns.
Like me, he struggles for each breath.
Like he, he’s suffering and alone.
We are naked to the wind
There is no dignity in this death
For one like me so steeped in sin.
I beg a blessing for my soul
Before eternity beckons Him
He looks at me with kindness then
and speaks to me of Paradise.
I sense He’s dying as we speak
Though I have sinned, he pays my price.
I hear him cry out to the sky
as he yields his spirit up.
The sky grows dark, Golgotha shakes
A solider with a stave draws near.
Lord I will follow soon enough.

These are the cyclical watches:
Waking dawns of healing,
Walking light of realization,
Rejoicing contentment,
Sitting afternoons of temptation,
Wandering twilight rebellion,
Wallowing nights of sin,
Shrieking midnight repentance,
Mournful watches before dawn....
These are the days of shriving.