Holy is the dish and drain
The soap and sink
The cup and plate
And the warm wool socks
And the cold white tile
Showerheads and good dry towels
And frying eggs sound like psalms
With a bit 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
And cars that boom
With passion’s beat
And the check out girl,
Counting change
And the hands that shook my hands today
Hymns of geese fly overhead
And stretch their wings
Like their parents did
Blessed be the dog
That runs in her sleep
The catch that wild and elusive thing
Holy is a familiar room
And the quiet moments
In the afternoon
And folding sheets
Like folding hands
To pray as only laundry can
I’m letting go of all I fear
Like autumn leaves
Of earth and air
For summer came
And summer went
As holy as a day is spent
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
With grateful smiles
And sad lament
As holy as a day is spent
And morning light sings
“Providence”
As holy as a day is spent
“Holy As The Day Is Spent”
by Carrie Newcomer
