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.

Published by Matthew Pullar

Teacher, writer, blogger, husband, father, Christian. Living in Wyndham in Melbourne's west, on the land of the Kulin Nation. Searching for words to console and feed hearts and souls.

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