The Time Of Joy.

Bowl after bowl, plate after plate
spoons and forks all pass my hands
and cross an absorbent sponge with Joy.
I hum my song, my only song
Washing, Washing, Cleaning, Cleaning,
Rinsing, Rinsing, Drying, Drying
My hands, each bowl, each plate
and cool water, I feel them all
for each with care I touch.
When I do my dishes
my song of now always comes to me
Washing, Washing, Cleaning, Cleaning,
Rinsing, Rinsing, Drying, Drying
While I wash my dishes with water and soap,
I always wash my mind with a moment of now
and joy.

ArjahnSarayut Arnanta
04/08/08