NaPoWriMo: Thirty//Thirty #5: At His Word


is why the chicken crossed the road.

Only, it wasn’t a chicken,

maybe a quail, or a ruffed grouse,

the state bird of all things

strutting his stuff in the middle there.


Staring back at me,

I, as unfamiliar with the animal

as I

am with the state of affairs

concerning my own

preening feathers.


Calling out,

these great and unsearchable

things I do not know.

Hazy, like a mirage,

is an answer,

that He will bring me back

from captivity,

gathering, and restoring fortunes.

You may not see it,

I know, yet,

even I barely have an inkling.


Arms and hearts

making a highway.

Crooked is now straight,

mountains and hills brought low,

rough places made smooth.


Thank you, Lord, for hindsight.


Let my belly do the talking.

I’m hungry.

There’s chicken for dinner.


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