I ate too much at lunch -- again
Now I've gone and read too much poetry -- again
Gorged myself on delicious beef and words

But my 3:00 is coming any minute.
I'll ingest the thoughts of her mind, the longings of her heart,
a better excess, maybe the best of all.

To listen someone to wholeness
A treat, a joy above the others,
maybe the best of all.

perfect

It was the perfect day for it: Cold, overcast, windy, rainy, wintry; the kind of day when sensible people stay inside. So it was also the perfect day for a run in the car to a quiet little cafe in a quiet little town in Kansas, where two old friends found a table by the window overlooking the barren garden and talked heart to heart -- of spirit life, elections bringing hope, family, church and opportunities to serve. Bodies and souls were nurtured by this good food and good friendship. Jesus said he would be with us in the breaking of bread. And he was.

Of course we've all but ruined the wonderful richness of the event by making it a restricted commodity to be passed out only to the deserving, only in special circumstances, only by the feeble-minded old men.

But my friend and I know better. He was with us, as he is with all of us, when bread is broken in the spirit of faith, hope and love.