The Zen of Housework

The Zen of Housework I look over my own shoulder down my arms to where they disappear under water into hands inside pink rubber gloves moiling among dinner dishes. My hands lift a wine glass, holding it by the stem and under the bowl. It breaks the surface like a chalice rising from a medieval lake. Full of the grey wine of domesticity, the glass floats to the level of my eyes. Behind it, through the window above the sink, the sun, among a ceremony of sparrows and bare branches, is setting in Western America. I can see thousands of droplets of steam -- each a tiny spectrum -- rising from my goblet of grey wine. They sway, changing directions constantly -- like a school of playful fish, or like the sheer curtain on the window to another world. Ah, grey sacrament of the mundane! ~ Al Zolynas ~ (The New Physics) Posted here to mark my birthday today