By Mrs. Hinde Gordon
from 2007 Writer's Journal
I stand at the window and watch the night approach.
The candles are lit.
The house is quiet.
The labor is finished.
The week is done.
Shabbos is here.
The day is fading, light turning gray.
Trees become shadows, whirling and twisting in the wind.
Gray sky streaked with color and slowly the colors fade.
The lights of the city come on, sparks in the growing night.
The gray becomes darkness.
Trees are blacker against the black.
I stand at the window and watch the night,
Singing a song without words,
A song from my heart, the language of my soul.
It is a time of peace, of contentment, of love and longing,
A connection, a moment in time, an island in the world,
An exquisite gift from the King of Kings.
My precious Shabbos, I cannot live a week without you.