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House of Prayer
by Linda Jean Thomas

Sitting on a bench on the lawn,
I am mindful of the sun on my face,
as I admire St. Francis of Assisi
among the Bleeding Hearts.

A birch tree grows between
the border of lawn and woods,
without limbs, without leaves,
simply a trunk and roots.

While a bird bath sits empty,
I hear birds sing in the woods.

A path leads me past a labyrinth,
to the edge of a sprawling pond,
where fiddleheads grow, and
water tumbles over rocks.

Gray clouds move in,
rain drops start to fall.
My mindful stroll is now a brisk walk
back to the House of Prayer.

The sign on the door reads, Welcome.
I hear the Sisters sing.

 

Copyright 2007 by Linda J. Thomas