• Tricia D. Wagner

Marooned on Night Waters #1.9

Updated: Nov 16

Like a bone not set right,

I sit this night and watch the darkling east for –

I know not what.

I know not what to pray to,

I can't sense the hunter.

A sequence of footsteps –

I can find no mirth in stars.

At the rising of chill wind,

I light a snug fire.

The fire, not allied, blows out.

I find what warmth I might

under a canopy of dark wood.

A voice speaking.

It comes.

Comfort might lie in sleep, if sleep I can reach.

Comfort might lie in whispered prayers for sun's swiftness.

However – I know not to pray.

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