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# Sunday Sanctuary
- URL: https://dianaludwick.com/sunday-sanctuary/
- Published: 2026-01-04T15:40:02.000Z
- Updated: 2026-10-24T20:13:00.000Z
- Description: "Sunday Sanctuary," Poem 004 in a series of daily poems written in 2026 by Diana Ludwick.
- Author: Diana Ludwick
- Tags: 2026 Poetry Challenge, Poems, #Migrated-1792872215677, #wp, #wp-post, #Import 2026-10-24 20:03

Hormones  
Have me awake  
Before dawn.  
  
After an hour of silent pleading  
Willing a return to slumber  
I double squeeze his arm  
And say  
I love you; I’ll leave you alone to keep sleeping.  
“Thank you.” He mumbled back.  
  
So I descend the stairs  
Rinse and clean my night guards   
In the hall powder room  
Store them in a spare ramekin  
And begin my early morning routine.  
  
Depress the Start button on the  
Super automatic coffee machine  
To get the gears whirring  
And the steam building.  
  
Unlatch the dishwasher door   
Faint humidity from last night's cycle   
Releases into the air.  
I empty the bottom rack   
heavy with mixing bowls and cutting boards and dinner plates.  
Then the third rack in the rafters   
filled with measuring spoons and flatware and lids.  
Then the second rack   
with the glassware and spatulas and jars.  
In this order, always.  
  
Now empty, the appliance yearns for more work.  
'To be of use.'  
I place in items for the next load  
Gathering an errant paring knife  
From last night’s honey crisp apple snack.  
Placing in yesterday’s ramekin  
From my dental devices  
And gently closing the door;  
That will do for now.  
  
By the time I’ve tucked the last clean mug away in its cupboard  
And refilled the washing unit  
The coffee maker chirps and  
shifts its LED display to announce:  
“Select your drink.”  
  
I lunge at the Large Coffee icon  
Jab the button  
Position a basketweave porcelain mug  
Below the nozzles  
And stand   
 \- transfixed -   
By the swirling umber   
And creamy froth  
Spurting   
from the innards  
Of this overly engineered  
German machine.  
  
Finally  
Twelve and a half minutes   
after leaving   
the warmth of my bed  
I have a hot cup in my hand  
Filled with the promise  
Of alertness  
Of comfort  
Of ritual.  
  
I set my mug on the coffee table  
By the bay window  
And I plug in  
My Sun Therapy light box.  
  
Set a timer for thirty minutes  
And stare down fifteen degrees  
While I position myself  
Fourteen inches from the light source.  
  
I will my body to absorb  
The energy and be encouraged  
To synthesize vitamin D   
So that my neurochemistry  
Rebalances  
And I can ascend out of  
My darkness-induced winter stupor.  
  
Under the harsh rays  
Of my artificial sun  
I tackle   
And triumph over  
Wordle.  
  
I read the top article  
In New York Times.  
Our current president  
Has taken  
Another country’s president and first lady   
And is now asserting  
that our country  
Will now run their country.  
  
Enough news;   
This world can be  
Too much.  
  
Close the app.  
Set down my phone.  
  
Pick up my French roast   
Sip deeply  
Feel the trickle of hot liquid  
Descend into my gullet.  
  
I revert to my bubble  
In quiet reverence  
Underneath my lamp  
On my loveseat  
Clutching my brew.  
  
A Sunday sanctuary.  
  
The universe can wait.