Thanksgiving prayer during a Poet’s Fallow Time

For the curves and fascinations of language, 
the nuances and crevices where meaning
blooms brilliant with life 
at the nourishing spark of creation.

for the displacement of soil
by hope stretching toward light;
for the tentative shoots
of maybe, perhaps;

for the quiet that cradles words 
in the kindness of time 
as they rest their syllables, steeping, 
waiting for the rightful moment to stir.

Kimberly M. King