We Will Pray

It might be a year without flowers to plant. 

Tighten the belt, as they say. Amid the crisis,

I step away from the awful news and walk

to the ridge. I need some perspective. I stand high

above the little stream called Muncy Run

and

listen to it flow, unencumbered, as it

has always done. From the quarry ponds, I hear

the honking of geese touching down on their

annual trip north. See, no matter what any

of us do or can do, this old world is still

going to go on spinning. The creek will sing.

The geese will tell us a poem. We will pray.

*****

Poem by,

Ann E. Diviney  

divineyae.38@gmail.com

                                                photo by, N. Thomas Johnson-Medland