Sunday Gatherings

The sun is illustrated in pastel hues
washed in a watery light
Mild is the air in my mouth

Standing at the roadside
of a flock of honking family vehicles
I wonder if they are going to church
or leaving church

It's Sunday morning
in the burb's and naturally
God has His hands full

I go visit a little pond
where frogs sing their
creaking love-woos
to lure green lovers
up from the muddy bottom

For a meditative moment
we join in prayer
Copyright © | Year Posted 2023

Poem

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