Prayer for Homemade French Fries

A Day in the Life of a Trying Poet

after Brian Doyle’s “Prayer for Little Brown Birds Nesting in the Lavender Bushes by the Walnut Tree”

“boot planter”- image by E. Howard

This is a prayer for homemade french fries
Passed around our homemade dinner table
In line behind our homegrown cucumbers
Accompanied by three brown-haired girls.

This is a prayer for a husband who shows his
Love by acts of service. Who's opted out of
Golf tonight to come and grill and 
Be nearby while I look for a way to break free.

This is prayer for the unknown soldiers who
Fight an afternoon war, a battle with 
Raging anxiety, on a Tuesday for no
Reason, no blood, no name.

This is a prayer for undone tasks, for Buddhist
Teachings, for reel makers and for bones.
For dogs scared of thunder, and foster children
Who will never-ever feel at home.
For tomorrow’s unknown pathways
For this evening’s blackened joys
For the next shooter’s intentions and his
Victims, little boys, 
making mudpies in the rain,
Saving pebbles, for someday.

This is a prayer for 
My own wild heart 
Which will keep on 
Whispering -- 'til it screams.
Its acid echo hammers 
On -- irked by
Narrow spaces, unmoored by 
Shaded dreams, wading 
Waiting, wading by
Worried little streams.