Sometimes On A Sunday Afternoon
Sometimes on a Sunday afternoon I fall asleep on the living room floor.
Just about every Sunday after church I go out to dinner,
Like Mom and Dad used to take us all,
And cherish the condensation On the iced tea glass,
And speak gently to the server, and take my time with dinner.
And if the day is fair, I may take a hike somewhere
And return when Sunday is almost gone.
Remember the sabbath day,
To keep it holy. But I imagine God
Keeping it holy in a whole different way.
I think God finds the deepest place in the woods,
Or the furthest meadow,
Gets real comfortable,
Because the sum of suffering in the world
Does not come near being washed away
By the volume of our tears alone.
And tears are the most holy thing
That we can share.
George R Pasley
April 9, 2017