Saturday Afternoon Amidah

Strange,
To realize suddenly
That the soft murmurs
Of intensely--
Personally--
Public
Conversation
Buzz
at the exact same frequency
as the hum of the
espresso machine.
They clearly go together:
A droning
Confluence of
Coffee and conversation.

There is benediction here
And blessing
In publicly private
Circles and squares of
Contiguous community,
Coming together
As many ones:
Fluid, with
Bittersweet offerings
On coffee-stained altars
Of smoothed wood
And hard-backed chairs.

Rising
In the bronzed light
of late afternoon
Dust motes, like rain
dance;
Rising
Amid the hiss and clatter
of steaming milk
to stand;
Rising
in the too-chill air
warmed by the opening
and closing
of the door.

Kadosh, kadosh, kadosh!

We move
And stand;
Shifting through--
From here to there,
To different--
To separate--
To pause,
In the in-between
Afternoon light
That lingers and lengthens
Into softening shadow.

Rising,

We stand--

At our coffee-stained altars,

In between dust motes

And late afternoon.
Rising,
Again,

To the opening 

of closed doors,

To the closing of opened,

And offer a prayer of
Thanks.