- An Evening for Reflection
Sleet adheres to my study's window
and changes into crystal tear drops.
Feeling like the last frosted leaf
on a barren branch,
I light the fire, settle
into my soft leather chair
and watch inconsistent flames reflect
against the gold trim in my footstool. the
Across the street, church bells
heave their deep sighs into the night.
While I scan the inviting books,
piled upon my library shelves,
my mind slowly casts a backward glance
toward Nebraska and the Sunday services
I attended as a child, with grandmother.
Somewhere, between those stacked
science and philosophy books,
lies an old Bible with my embossed name.
I raise my eyes and trace patterns
on the wallpaper where
futile prayers have long since bonded,
and wonder whether God really exists.
I fold my hands,
reverently, then realize--
my heart still yearns for
what my mind can not accept.
