Sunday, August 9, 2009

A Meant Prayer

A Summer Night
by Kate Barnes

A summer night. The moon's face,
almost full now, comes and goes
through clouds. I can't see
any stars, but a late firefly
still flicks his green lamp on and off
by the fence.
In this light
that is more illusion
than light, I think of things
I can't make out: milkweed opening
its millions of flowerets, their heavy heads
smelling like dark honey in the night's
darkness; day lilies
crowding the ditch, their blossoms
closed tight; birds asleep with their small legs
locked on twigs; deer stealing
into the uncut hay; and the young bay mare
kneeling down in the pasture, composing herself
to rest, as rounded and strong
as a meant prayer.

by Kate Barnes, from Kneeling Orion.


  1. I love that. I always think of the things going on I am not aware of, but which are happening despite that. It keeps me humble.

  2. Thank you for sharing this. I have been trying to live in all these summer moments this year.

  3. Yesterday we had one of these.
    Walking around and checking to see what is surviving and what is not this summer of unbearable heat, way up high, sitting believe it or not on a rose leaf was one of my Charlies. He or she no bigger than my thumb and so serenely hiding from the heat in the arms of Albertine, that made me smile and I thought, wise little frog, he chose the most fragrant of our roses in the garden to contemplate the passing of the day.

    Some times I think that a little frog has more common sense than I do.



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