I followed God’s call to the mountain
and here I sit praising him
on a Sunday afternoon.
Mornings rustle with bright fall leaves
scattered about on pebbled walkways
to chapel. Fellowship abounds
there, when students and faculty
sing together, mull on scripture
side by side, and lift up prayers
communally.
Afternoons crackle with provoking lectures
dashed with humor and solemn reverence.
I steep myself in the glorious Pentateuch,
Dante’s flaming circles, and brilliant
seventies film interpretation.
Evenings spark rich discussion
while I study with my roommate.
We listen to Mozart and drink spicy tea,
gathering up luscious handfuls
of dried cranberries snd pistachios, a perfect
combination from her California home.
Fridays are lovely: we drive down to the sparkling
night valley for pesto pizza and Krispy Kremes,
visiting the dollar theater or the Gap outlet,
laughing all the way down and up.
Sundays are liturgical: worship first,
special dinner in the great hall,
afternoon rest, then a call home
before sunset. Here I find
peace, beauty, and deep relief
from my inner aches at last.