A Mighty Fine Stumbling

It’s still raining,
it’s now, it’s later,
my coat is damp all through.
It’s the nightmare
where I’m drowning
it’s the pleading
from the pew.
I am wakeful
I am drowsy
counting blessings:
many – less a few.
It’s a might fine bit of stumbling
that brings me home,
home to you.

Leave a Reply