Prayer Call Poem by Bill Grace
Prayer Call
As night turns to gray dawn
I begin to see our lawn
That lawn, prosaic, bourgeois and a common sight
Is the green mask of beauty for deeper things we do not like
Where all would be lost if not for a candle's light
That calls our souls to prayer.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
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4/18/2024 9:17:09 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I like the image of a lawn being a mask for something else, even if you don't say what that something is. Those middle two lines really stand out. Bravo.