The sunset, a caesura between day and night,
slow red serenity, the hushing breeze
and a gradual unveiling of the moon anoint us;
I bear witness to this sacrament under the gentian dome of sky.
Though I do not pray with the words of my father,
I understand at last the psalmist’s song of praise.
Evening Prayer
24 Friday May 2013
Posted in poems
Poetry on the run 
I think you know I try to understand your writing and when I can’t or tire out from trying 😦 I at least try to find something to take away.
I learned a new word: gentian.
Well done. 🙂
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I hope you know how much I appreciate the time and effort you invest in what I write, a mere thank you seems inadequate.
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ladysighs always was the foolish one in the family. I am more reasonable. But we both like to have fun. It is a good investment. 🙂
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Ron, I absolutely love this. It’s perfect! Reminds me a bit of Wendell Barry but only in content. The style and music of the language and unusual imagery are uniquely yours.
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Thank you so much for this comment…I am rather fond of Wendell Barry’s poetry though it has been quite a long time since I read him…guess who I’ll be reading this weekend.
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Ron, what a graceful mixture of the domestic and the sacred … your poetry is a delight. tony
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Thank you Tony. Your comments are most appreciated.
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