Prayer

Last night the wind
Had stories to narrate
As men and dogs howled in the wilderness
I paid obeisance to it
And lifted a prayer out of hurt

The wounds are still cut deep Lord
No bleeding but unhealing unquiet
I know you understand as
Solitude is religion, godly
In winter time what can I offer
What oblations, my penitential guilt
Reeks of a silence like clouded mists
Like those tall trees standing
Amidst earthly wonders amidst
Despair. Lord let spring time
Arrive and our smiles will converge
Conflagrate as the orange Sunset.