white

Many years ago I was cross-country skiing through white woods
Forest green, blue-white and crystal sky
Stark
Discovered alongside the path some cozy little caves made out of snow
Crawled into one and there were even little shelves, so convenient
People (and a dog, judging by the fur in the smallest cave) had lived in them the night before
Had found rest in them
So white, they looked holy
Like little desert monks' retreats

Tonight I remembered this as I drew a warm bath
Filled it generously with a foot of bubbles (you have to use the jets for this effect)

If you put your bubbly hands together in prayer
Then pull them apart a little bit
There will be a white cave inside the bubbles
Illuminated from light through the bathroom window
A blue stormy light
That too speaks of holiness
As does the bed clad in fresh white sheets
Where you lay afer the bath
Clean
Smiling with your husband