Sabbath Poem 1

January 13th, 2019

Camped here at Trinity Lake eating eggs & almost-frozen melon, scalding coffee
Reading Whitman here among the rising trees and with the cheeky ravens calling across the camp
While ripples drift across the lake: Wakes of long-passed motorboats cutting through the sun day calm
Some are coming — some are going — some are staying waiting for their time to come
and all the world today moves just in time, without harry without tarry, but only as it must
And it must do only this: no obligations but the clearest most necessitous here on a sabbath beneath the trees