Evening Prayer Not wanting it said that only desperation drives me to prayer, I’m trying giving thanks this time. Thanks for the whole creation, especially my patch on Bayou Teche. Thanks that the bayou overflows its banks in heavy rain, bringing the herons in. Thanks for the sunset flinging golden mesh on the stone streets of an Italian town seen long ago. Thanks that I’ve reached old age with not so many burdens of the flesh as I expected. Thanks that I’m at the stage of contemplating death with open eyes and without bitterness or dread or rage. Thanks for my readiness to meet surprise.
Gail White is a contributing editor of Light Poetry Magazine and a frequent contributor to formalist poetry journals and anthologies. She is a 2-time winner of the Howard Nemerov Sonnet Prize. Her most recent books, Asperity Street and Catechism, may be found on Amazon. She lives in Breaux Bridge, Louisiana with her husband and cats.
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