Lord, how I love to be stuck
hearing the worship filter around me –
unable to muster a line from
all of Creation, which you spoke into being.

Efforts dulled, I release the
brooding, the concerns, and the burden.
Exhaling as the cursor blinks again, and
again and again, and again.

Your Psalm instructs,
“We bring our years to an end like a sigh”
Why worry when we sense afternoon?
Why fret over the sunset, as light still glows?

 The chirping mobile sounds,
Temporary put off no longer.  How such things
raise the pulse, call forth stern voice,
separating me from Your peace.

 Forgive me for a non-silenced phone