My prayer feels like
standing in a garden of blue hydrangeas
just after rain. Behind the garden’s
seven-feet stone wall, I imagine
someone very wise listening.
I never think to pray
after a sleep-in morning
when Marc and I are propped up
by pillows and the dog,
eating sugared blueberries
and watching Bob Ross paint on TV.
My prayer is about comfort,
not faith. I could be standing
by that wall talking only to the stones.
But I am sure every Sunday
morning Marc will wake
before I do and return with breakfast.
2 comments:
yes indeed it is prayer that wakes everyone up. it does not abandon any one.... pray more especially for others then you will see there is joy in you and you alone that is the work of the sprit
pretty good post. I lawful stumbled upon your blog and wanted to command that I get really enjoyed reading your blog posts. Any condition I’ ll be subscribing to your maintain and I hope you despatch again soon wedding dress.
Post a Comment