The cloud had darkened, and the lane lengthened,
as my dragging feet walked the dusty way home.
My fears were growing and the worry charging
my mind with images and misery. The news was bad.
==
A person walks on and carries with them their past,
the nightmares and traumas, failures and fears
grasp the future and weigh down our dusty feet
and our prayers cast, like a horse shoe clatter,
—
availing only to sadden our searching. Then I heard
nearby in a thorny thicket a trumpet call come,
tiny fluffing feathers, bones and rustling flesh,
a clarion interrupting my grief and hopelessness.
—
A wren, with his hoisted tail, blew my sad and
gloomy thoughts away as he swelled and music
trebled from his tiny throstle, thrilling me and
retuning me to life in that sacred hopeful place.
—
Somewhere else a bird sang to his beloved, holy
zees while another performed an aria atop a tree.
They are healers of creation, holding in their
prayerful songs the praise to the glory of God.
