Day Is Done
The sun has set under clouds of gray. Snow? Perhaps tomorrow.
I've passed the day in blissful solitude. No radio, no TV. No music but my own. No telephone has rung. I recall no sound of plane or train or automobile. Not even the postman passed this day. No whine of saw chains or report of guns. I saw no person save myself. But for the mantel clock chimes to mark the passage of the day, time stood still. Just Sam and I and, of course, the mountains and the sky.
Did all the world stand still as well? Did soldiers die? Did planes fall from the sky? Or, perhaps, did Abraham's children wrought peace this today?
I'll sup on my pot of beans tonight and wait for another day to know.
I've passed the day in blissful solitude. No radio, no TV. No music but my own. No telephone has rung. I recall no sound of plane or train or automobile. Not even the postman passed this day. No whine of saw chains or report of guns. I saw no person save myself. But for the mantel clock chimes to mark the passage of the day, time stood still. Just Sam and I and, of course, the mountains and the sky.
Did all the world stand still as well? Did soldiers die? Did planes fall from the sky? Or, perhaps, did Abraham's children wrought peace this today?
I'll sup on my pot of beans tonight and wait for another day to know.
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