If perfection may be found in prayer,
I find it best when I do not try to pray.
Perchance it comes with sunrise laughter on the hill.
Or with the touch you bring at night,
Or with sweet kiss that comes with morning light.
Such things go naked into heart,
Emerge rejoicing from my mouth
Or wordless as a sigh caresses air
Then passes ranging out of sight.
Surprised by art, my Spirit burns.
Sometimes I feel I’m loved for sacred flaws,
Wounds that last beyond all contradiction.
Here or there, while walking in the park,
I find no end to love but only lovely spoils,
When wonder echoes great Amen.