After Prayer

More a reflection than a poem, this somehow still wanted appear in poetic form:

Prayer is the raw material,
the stuff
the starting point.

Where shall I take it then?

When the quiet,
the intention,
have built
into a swirling ball of light.

When the web hums
with prayer,
like orb-weaver’s web
when she shakes it
in the morning sun.

The time comes
when prayer must be shaped,
molded into form and action.


Gratitude List:
1. Watching my children sleep, curled like seeds or sprawled on their backs, one leg cocked like they are about to leap off in the dance or a fencing match.  Or half curled, like they’re mid-stride in a marathon.  One is still in the exact same position I left him in last night.  The other has been moving about in his sleep.
2. The current roadside triumvirate of day lily, Queen Anne’s lace, and chicory peeking like a blue eye among them.
3. Those who care for the children.  People who foster children in need of loving homes, who take that belief that they are all our children into loving action.
4. Gathering, harvesting, filing, preparing–all these ideas for the coming work of the fall.
5. “Song of Peace,” the words set to the tune of Finlandia.

May we walk in Beauty!


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