as the late evening fog sweeps in over the hills
and the cold air creeps
to the doors and the windows,
as the blankets cover and wrap
the restful
and the air settle softly among the bedfolds,
as the souls breathe,
and the nostrils rhythm beats and the warms
of the lungs fills the ventricles—
may the very air sing and pulse and speak
of our Savor who aches to be known.
A Nighttime Prayer
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