It may not be an exodus, but what if . . .

This is just a fun what if . . . imagine you’re Moses today . . .

Photo by PlanetCare on Unsplash

It may not be an exodus, but what if . . . 

on Tuesday’s date with socks and sheets and pains,  
its musts and mounds of duty-filling daze . . . 
she saw her same ole dryer light in flames,  
what seemed a box of steel broke into blaze!  

And if she’d mocked its cheap utility,
til from a fire the glowing dryer spoke—
would blasted burn send her to bended knee
within a clouded voice of holy smoke? 

Would then she see herself on sacred ground,
and every concrete labor stained as hallow;
if humdrum is what spins this world around
and mystery will find her wearied shadow?

Then how could Wednesday still remain so slight 
when what is dull and dry might still blaze bright?  

This poem can be found in All the Untils, my recent poetry collection published by Wipf and Stock.

To purchase click here: All the Untils