catapult magazine

The Winter Sabbath

by Carol Brennan King

Like a Sabbath,
Winter waits
There at the end of the calendar.
Waiting to wrap winds
Swirling snow around the door
Ice around the windows
Up the streets
Like a stop sign
A slow down sign.
Winter waits.

Hibernation calls
Whispers scarcely heard
Over the bruit of cell phones
Text messages, the tinkle of
Incoming messages
Technology the enemy of
The Sabbath stillness
God gave nature
A time to rest, to recollect, to plan,
To listen to the
Whispered voice of God.