Whole is the dish and drain
The soap and sink and the cup and plate
The warm wool socks and
the cold white towel
Shower heads and good dry towels
And flying eggs sound like songs
With bits of salt measured in my palm
It's all a part of a sacrament,
as holy as a day is spent.
Holy is the busy street,
the cars that boom with passion's speed,
And a checkout girl, counting in chains
The hands that shook my hands today
And hymns of peace fly overhead
And spread their wings
like their parents did
Blessed be the dog that
runs in her sleep
To chase some wild
and elusive thing
Holy is the fa miliar room
In quiet moments in the afternoon
In folding sheets like folding hands
To pray as only laundry can
I'm letting go of all my fear
Like autumn leaves made
of earth an d air
But the summer came,
and the summer went
As holy as a day is spent
Holy is the place I stand
To give whatever small good I can
The empty page, the open book,
redemption everywhere I look
Unknowingly we slow our pace,
in the shade of unexpected grace
And with grateful smiles and sad lament,
as holy as a day is spent
And morning light sings provid ence
As holy as it is spent
You