after Jack Kornfield
After the festival, the laundry.
After the festival, exhaustion
and punch-drunk laughter.
Collapsing into the armchair
and absently petting the cat.
After the festival, silence rings.
There's so much to do -- building
and repair, a new name for God,
making all our promises real.
But not today. Today, gratitude
for the washing machine, swirling
my Yom Kippur whites clean.