…But Not Just Yet

Today had just begun to wane, tonight not far behind;
I gave the still and tired house my absence for a time.
Because one must, in such a mood, when one's not one for talk,
I bundled up my secret thoughts and took them for a walk.
The neighborhood I left behind and crossed the empty street
to join the path that dips and sways where hill and pasture meet.
I passed the place where cattle stood and little did they care
for any thought I thought of them as they returned my stare.
I paused atop a grassy knoll to wonder at the sight
of vibrant hues from setting sun that set the clouds alight.
Though none was there along my side to complement the view
on canvas so enormous, surely others saw it too.
But paint from skyscapes faded out as dusk drew on apace
and still I journeyed onward to the quiet wild place
in which the river whispered 'neath the sturdy cotton trees
and lonesome calls of night birds fluttered on the even breeze.
'Twas there I found a spot to bow my head in humble prayer
and seek the Holy Father of this sanctuary fair.
I offered him my troubles and explained to him my grief.
I thanked him for his goodness and I pleaded for relief.
I stayed beside the stream until the silent stars came out
while moonlight danced on ripples where a muskrat swam about.
Then when the time seemed right and autumn air was turning chill
I turned my face to home again and climbed the slanting hill
and there retraced the path that wound toward my neighborhood.

I passed the cows now in repose where earlier they'd stood.
The crescent moon was lamp enough to guide my feet to home.
One day. One day, I told myself, I'll cease to walk alone.