Secular Psalm for a Summer Sunday

This is a desert liturgy remember that we are dust apply conditioner foot lotion eye balm spritzer jojoba and sorbelene my moisture is turned into the drought of summer selah.

My tongue cleaveth to my jaws I pant as the hart for water in the baking hills hidden rivers drawn from the deep places of the earth pour into swimming pools bird baths for doves and finches.

 Let the babblers make a joyful noise and sprinklers fill greedy melon-mouthed pumpkin flowers whose vine has colonised my doorway let the basil flourish let all the capsicums in my garden rejoice.

 (Morning radio bulletin) this is the generation of them who know the failure of the grass roots who spin not neither do they reap weep for the generation of them that seek the face of truth oh jacob selah.

 This is the day I am poured out like water my strength dried up like a potsherd this day and everyday until the cooler weather comes blessed are they who dwell in air conditioning they shall sing its praises forever selah.

 Oh come and let us dance the languid dance of summer let us sing the song of going south for Christmas let us celebrate frogs in the cistern and all the insects of the earth who have converged upon us.

 Summer sorely tries me I barely survive it makes me lie down in exhaustion frequently it leads me beside the dry riverbed it restores my desire to migrate to Antarctica surely ice and snow must come upon us soon lest we dwell in a state of heat stroke and stupor forever selah.                                                                        

© Terry Whitebeach

Alice Springs, summer 1998