The waning light.
In my fright,
a little prayer. . .

A little blip
in field of sight. . .

There is benevolence out there. . .

And there are allies,
and good friends. . .

And there are means
to all best ends. . .

the light
a bit more fades,
time now
to gather, lift, and twist
a few loose strands
and hold my work
toward setting sun
whereby I craft a tool
for my good use,
precise and strong,
and with the beauty
and the smile
of a little girl’s first braids.

This entry was posted in Medium Length Poems, Poetry, Prayer and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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