there shall be for me
prayer this evening
that manages saying little
yet filling a desire
that will not be put off.

effortless prayer
by bandy stream
beginning without plan,
simply beginning,
and joining to me,
a rough hewn faith,
smell of a wet god,
the sand the stream
springs from.

my prayer
and the creek flows,
a voiceless plea
seeking nothing.
grateful to stand
in the pale light,
empty and small
and wanted.

the prayer
of a doubting man,
casting about for answers
grown comfortable
letting question
reside elsewhere.

humbled that my prayer
joins night song,
a prayer with each
pulse of my blood,
constant until i stop praying.