A prayer in the dusk
Rapt in thought she sits on the porch alone.
Tomorrow’s grey clouds occupy her mind.
She cannot shake the fear of the unknown,
as shadows lengthen, her heart feels confined.
A trill of a thrush echoed from the brush.
A soulful stirring deep within her blues.
Leaves rustle murmurs as soft as a hush,
fluttering notions, perhaps inspired clues.
A desire of change when the dusk departs,
as prayers of hope rise to her lips.
Take away this chalice, piercing like darts.
A wish to heal and avoid further snips.
God moves in mysterious ways, they say,
Signs maybe subtle, but there, every day.
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