Eating an artichoke, watching the clouds bloom, a perfect day

We have had entirely enough church politics for one week, and doubtless we will return next week to the troubled world of our dear old Anglican Communion. But it seems to me a poem should be the order of the day, and may this bit of verse open a sacred space for you in your busy day. This is a gift from our friend Karen in Tennessee:

On a Perfect Day

by Jane Gentry

... I eat an artichoke in front
of the Charles Street Laundromat
and watch the clouds bloom
into white flowers out of
the building across the way.
The bright air moves on my face
like the touch of someone who loves me.
Far overhead a dart-shaped plane softens
through membranes of vacancy. A ship,
riding the bright glissade of the Hudson , slips
past the end of the street. Colette's vagabond
says the sun belongs to the lizard
that warms in its light. I own these moments
when my skin like a drumhead stretches on the frame
of my bones, then swells, a bellows filled
with sacred breath seared by this flame,
this happiness.

Artichoke wallpaper from the 19th century by John Henry Dearle for Morris & Co.