March 5, 2009
Sometimes, during longer meetings, I write work poems. Here is today’s:
The brown-burnt taste of roast coffee
lingers on my tongue like the sharp spice
of woodsmoke from a wooded cottage,
the linger of boiled water and warmed kitchen
and sizzled bacon lending pleasure and verve
to swinging axe or driving plough — work!
toil transformed by fire, by the offering of
leaf limb trunk, bud pit bean
burnt to god Desire: a prayer to want our lot.
How abundantly answered! How daily
it is given to us to want to live—
how miraculously, how joyfully.
The things we burn are holy
rams placed in thickets—Abraham!
Take your hand from Isaac:
God himself has provided