Sunday Prayer

duskloveNo matter how blue I am, when dusk rolls around, I perk up.  I cannot remember a time when I didn’t get that potent evening-is-dropping-over-us feeling when the light is changing and the light makes everything glow.

How many windows have I gazed at trying to get a glimpse of what might be going on inside someone else’s house, some other human’s house who I hope is making it through supper okay—that there’s no arguing going on, only the kind of talk that mirrors the vibrant yet dim surreal light outside.

The enchanting light that makes everything seem like we’re all together, separate in our own homes, beaming out reflections: shimmery softness, glarey spotlights or haze. The light that cloaks every last one of us in stillness, even as we tremble and toil and while away.

Yours In Curtain Worship,
The Well Intentioned Observer

6 Comments on "Sunday Prayer"

  1. The Farmer says:


  2. MidLyfeMama says:

    I remember walking at dusk with my mother one time when I was in college. She admitted that that was her favorite time of the day, when people were turning on lights, but not closing the blinds or curtains yet, and you could see inside. See how they decorated, what kind of lampshades they chose, how they lived. I had never given it any thought until then, but now I do the same thing.

  3. Yes. I agree.
    When walking at dusk, I am Peeping Piper.