Don’t Wash My Dishes

Susan Brearley

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Apr 13, 2019 · 1 min read

It’s my meditation

my mental salvation

my soul’s libation.

I stand at this window

hands immersed in suds,

and scrubbing the chunks,

the slime, the grime, til there’s no line or twine,

only shine.

And all the time…

Toe to toe with the oaks,

the birds, the porcupines

I’m disinclined to release

this sublime

moment to another.

Unless, it’s also your meditation time.