Everyday Sabbath

for Sally Mouzon

The jubilant storm,
having finally danced away—
replete and smitten
with her own music
—has left sister wind in her wake,
to take charge of the clean-up,
and she’s a bit out of sorts.

But where the curtain of cloud
has revealed breaks and is parting,
sun as Day peeks through,
first with a nudge and a tickle,
before bursting on the scene,
with great alacritous humor,
to mop into cumulous the damp floors,
and warm the cockles
of every living thing.

… to digress from systems and cycle: 
contrary to ill-conceived lore,
none of this is for an apple
— the apple taken
is neither baked nor bacon,
but meet food, in due season—
all of it is for the blossom,
which should be just epiphany
to actually knowing the Known,
available in all times and places,
in every single moment…

Having been teased and tickled,
our apple blossom opened her petals,
laughing, nay, giggling with delight,
revealing to all, beyond any shadow,
her unselfconscious sanctity;
for, nestled in her soft arms,
lay a sleeping bumble bee,
having in place sheltered there.

Waking because sun-warmed,
having slept, sipped and supped,
our humble bumble takes wing,
carrying a packet of pollen,
as blossom's parting gift.

This is all that the Heavens decreed:
The acceptable day is every today,
for every hospitable act;
the great are no greater
than the least and the small;
Creation was made to be shelter
for body, for soul, and forsooth, for all.

© 2025 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen & songsofasouljourney.blogspot.com

While I have continued to write, it is a long while since I've posted any of it here. Sometimes, it takes a friend to nudge one into things. For such nudges, I'm grateful; they remind me I'm alive.

About this poem: Sometime, thirty years or so ago, I was performing at a summer music festival in the mountains. As I was walking along the edge of a road near dusk, I saw a bumble bee fly past me and land inside a large (non-indigenous) daisy blossom. I lingered to watch, fascinated, as the bee scrumbled around in the blossom, but did not fly away. While I continued to linger, the bumblebee stopped moving altogether, as the sun disappeared behind the mountains, and the blossom began to close up. I'd never seen such a sight! The next morning, I came along the same road, intending to check that blossom. The sun was not high enough yet to warm the petals; they were still closed. I ran to get a large coffee, and ran back. In the time I was gone, the petals had warmed enough to open, and the rum-dumb bumblebee, also warmed by the sunbeams, slowly awakened and started a bit of morning grooming, cleaning with feet and mouth, and apparently redistributing the pollen load in his pollen sacks. This was the most amazing miracle of nature I had witnessed, to that date! I was able to share that experience with others in our group. I also was able, many years later, to show this to my children (though they likely don't remember). It never dawns on people to look for a happening quite that small, but it is worth the wait. And it is proof positive that nature is about hospitality and reciprocity. It has taken me all these years to write something about the experience. I hope you enjoy the result. Who knows, maybe I'll write about the bumblebee again...