from rest born,
in rest ended,
this day

his head
upon the
serpentine
of her waist and hip,
glove for hand,
never fit better

few words spoken,
not a one from
necessity

even these,
just a record,
otherwise,
superfluous

the in between minutes
of one of his twenty three
thousand days were not
rest easy or
worry free

but
it matters not,
for the birthing and death
of this one,
just another ordinary,
were a midweek
sabbath

and what is a sabbath?

a day (and night) of rest

the hours
in between,
just a waiting room,
till his head,
upon her hip,
yet again,
a sabbath observed
from grace born,
in grace ended



composed
this ending evening of
january the
seventh