(Jordan Graff/Unsplash)

Swiveling in our Sabbath-rest,
we are impressed
by the slow,
winkless kindness that glows
slightly when we still.
No thrill,
no sudden
unrelated frill, no madman
trumpet-blast.
One silver cast
of calm,
bracing us with the flavorless balm
of god.
It’s odd.
The only brightness,
it took this long to notice.

Magda Andrews-Hoke lives in Philadelphia. She studied theology and the arts at the University of St. Andrews and was a 2019 recipient of the Frederick Mortimer Clapp Fellowship for Poetry.

Also by this author
Published in the December 2021 issue: View Contents
© 2024 Commonweal Magazine. All rights reserved. Design by Point Five. Site by Deck Fifty.