Here, today, I said a feeble prayer,
almost afraid to ask for a sign, a
small signature from God in His
sky. But, feeling weak and young,
I did ask, for an orange ball of fire
to wing its way past my window,
just after the sunset when the sky was
dark as dark in this countryside.
Twenty seconds of musing and then,
across the lower sky, a red core of
fire, followed by hot white streaked
past my window. I did believe in this
sign, so quickly answered, as if my
Father in Heaven had planted that
small meteor in His plan to remind
me that I am one of His small ones.
A daughter without much to show
without much to leave to my one
descendant, but a meteor memory,
written in a poem of little account.
A few seconds of assurance that one
someone, somewhere, (where I do
not know), is thinking of me in a
kind and gentle manner on another
shore, where the sea makes the sky
as big as paints this prairie.
