Lent — day five

Somewhere in the finally-still of last night,
a goose, an all alone goose, cried
near enough my open window for its
weeping, its pleading, to seep into
my fitful-sleeping soul and fill it.
Fill it so aching and familiar that I woke.
I woke and prayed for the kindred goose,
and even as my body returned to some
semblance of sleep, my filled-up soul
petitioned for the bird until it felt the
forgetful thing take flight again.


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