Somewhere a prayer
escapes into the atmosphere.
High in the dawn sky,
a whisper of joy glides in
on gossamer wings,
alights nimbly upon my right shoulder.
With his little triangular beak,
he gives a gentle tweak to an earlobe
piercing my preoccupied attention
and proceeds to whistle his jaunty tune:
PRAISE the Lord! PRAISE the Lord!
Come SING! Come SING!”
A smile twitches, catches
the corners of my mouth in an upturned bow.
My heart trills in response.
I acclaim God’s name, the wonders of the Word,
pray in turn.
With a nod of his head, a blink of an eye,
a feather brush touch— he’s out of sight.
chirps echo in the distance,
a resonance remains.
c.Darlene Moore Berg