Evening Prayer

The leaves whistle change;
no longer burning, the air
sings a softer tune, and I
wander in the evening street

attuned to change, yet stuck within 
the day's exhaustion, mind empty,
spirit vacant. I lift
my arms to walk, to pray,

the day ahead
uncertain, silent - cooler, but still
not within my arms' reach.
You, my God,

must - if You know the movement
of the breeze, the hows and whys
of trees - also know
the temperature of tomorrow, the

pressure of the air, the way
my spirit will rise 
or fall or flow. Be still,
my soul; the Lord

is on your side.
The day lifts up its arms in
prayer; the curtain of the night
unveils the stars in praise.