Preacher’s Saturday (a prayer)

March afternoon
playing catch
with the boy
no coats required

Sweet onions brown
fragrant in olive oil
an aromatic curry
food for thought

Fingers fly
across keys
framing thoughts
formed earlier outside

A rush to finish
mindful of the hour
springing from us
the short night ahead

Jesus in the wilderness
Lazarus in his sisters’ arms
we don’t need much
just words to tell them

You are with us
We are yours
There is love
And oh! your mercy