A holy partaking
They send me postcards,
friends traveling the world -
colorful glossies; scribble on the back
notes of their adventures.
No cards may be posted
from the realms I explore.
I just sit. Or tour my small house
and yard. Do routine chores.
Enjoy quiet conversations with old friends.
I work on my flexibility; equanimity.
Read; paint; compose; prepare simple meals.
The beauty of these ordinary happenings
I cannot reciprocally send their way
to fall upon busy, itinerant eyes and ears;
too subtle for photographs and words,
for the established premises, patterns,
constructs and commonality
of human communication.
O child of God, each morsel is a holy partaking
from the table which has been laid before us.