Dirt Prayer Book

This prayer book you’ve given me,
made of dirt damp mornings
and endless sermons on fatherhood
rests so easily in my hands,
I sometimes forget it's here.

When she was still with us I didn’t need to open it,
I just looked over at her,
wife, mother, woman,
watched what she was doing,
learned prayer that way.

This book you’ve given me,
in the shape of a day,
with the voice of canyon winds,
and a binding made of night skies that swallow me whole,
is how I find my way home,
to this moment
where glory - robed in Juniper and Pine,
trotting on thick, padded dog paws,
with the curious, restless eyes of my children,
is always waiting for me.

In these pages I discover my own prayer,
knowing she is with us,
everywhere.