How strange that meditation
assumes a brand new station.
As days lag by in summer heat,
pace slows down to dragging feet.
The quiet time follows the dawn,
earlier, to greet the foraging fawn.
Slanted rays are best for working
not much heat but gently lighting.
Afternoon is now a time to swoon
when siesta is the snoozing boon.
Moving out onto the balmy porch
iced tea and lighting of the torch
heralds the new way,
divides our new day.
Sleep is divided,
work is decided
Day is no longer a day.
Day is fractured,
Work is no longer continuous,
work is no longer contiguous
not due to time,
but broken chime
upon the beat
due to heat.
So we are night and twilight people now
we see through murk and misty shadow.
We listen to his gentle rayle
as Rainman comes without fail.
He regiments his night walk
like a shadow of the night hawk.
Parading up the passages
creating clouds of images,
dancing on the dandelions
he feeds and waters thirsty vines.
Throbbing through the mass of lines
we see him in the distant haze
creating just a jestive maze.
He jumps from days to days
and jiggers round to midnight.
Rainman is our marker man,
he tells the time in great élan.
We understand his regimen
it fits with ours. We say, ‘Amen !’
Time out, and so it is. Hanukah.