... God is not a Sunday plumber - he's always available...
Two or three angelsCame near to the earth.They saw a fat church.Little black streams of peopleCame and went in continually.And the angels were puzzledTo know why the people went thus,And why they stayed so long within.
Now I know why the Lord took his day off on Sunday. That must be the day he personally greets his favorites.
Oh dear sunday, I want to sleep in your arms and have fun day.
O holy Sunday, let your darkness not come along my way. Let her nurture internal and external world, as I start my personal day.
Sunday is the golden clasp that binds together the volume of the week.
Each spice has a special day to it. For turmeric it is Sunday, when light drips fat and butter-colored into the bins to be soaked up glowing, when you pray to the nine planets for love and luck.
On Sunday mornings, as the dawn burned into day, swarms of gulls descended on the uncollected trash, hovering and dropping in the cold clear light.