Friday Night
The strings of beads of Friday nights
- for you maybe a rosary -
for us the count by sevens
through the years.
We hear the clink as each
falls into place
Nesting with its kin
to link a chain
to cross time's canyon.
Friday, Shabbat
the evening arrives and
wherever we are
in the warm Friday sea
we can taste the salt
welcome you
welcome me.
In which NC Weil reviews books and films, and considers this amazing world.
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