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Prayer Shawl

When summer nights are christened
With chanting crickets –
Last of their summer season song -
Rolling fields of ripening wheat - east of the mountains -
Revisit my mind;
I picture a young woman – suitcase in hand –
Walking away – not looking back –
Face toward a city by the Sound
Leaving fields in echoes of youth
On a journey of one thousand miles.

I walked the journey that she walked,
Suitcase in hand,
The solitary path 
That knew the touch of her footsteps
But came from forests evergreen
To hear her crickets 
Chant the same symphonies
Abiding in a new home
Bounded by the ocean’s roar
And golden foothills.

She – my Naomi;
I, her Ruth
Embraced upon the crossroads,
Sharing secrets of strawberries
Made into sweet jam;
Where she went
I followed,
Not always in agreement,
As we gleaned new amber fields
Of poppies arm in arm.

To my sorrowing, 
The time 
When she would again journey
In footsteps
I could not walk
Whispered 
An approaching call –
A bugle 
With its plaintive sound
Left an echo in her dreams.

One last gift –
A shawl of comfort 
For the chill of autumn days -
To remember journeys -
Summer warmth passing,
Yellow colored as the spring
Her favorite 
Knit in a loving circle
By words of prayer -
Joined in loops of affection

The time to part
Came quietly
Amid December’s celebrations;
On a still Noel night
She left – no suitcase in hand –
Covered just before she embarked
By my shawl knit with blessings -
All dressed up in prayer -
To be embraced by eternity
In sunshine yellow hues.

No one
Should journey
Back to the eternal 
Without a yellow prayer shawl.

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