It is like the precious oil on the head,
running down upon the beard,
on the beard of Aaron,
running down over the collar of his robes.
Today I read a new note from one of
my classmates my workshop friends,
another generous hearing and sharing.
my heart runs over:
into my throat,
out my eyes,
filling my ears
as I throw my arms over my head onto the bed.
Surely goodness and mercy follow me all the days of my life.