In reading the holy Book of little books –
may the merry hear God’s laughter,
the lonely see God’s smile,
the hungry smell a yeasty loaf of daily bread,
the noontide thirsty,
weak from the stories that parch
the very roots of us,
taste cool water that needs no bucket,
no faucet, no silver cup.
May the tired
(for life makes each of us weary)
feel these words
like a hand under the elbow,
a warm stone wall for sitting,
or a good friend’s greeting at sunset.
And may they always be for you
a familiar tale
at every evening’s fire.