by Kendra Thompson

A sonnet for Morning Prayer

I toss and wake, it’s eight-o-two a.m.
This proves to be a most indulgent feat.
Wandering, I brew, brood, and then begin
remembering, reciting on repeat.
This morn returns a pattern, not my own.
I hear familiar verse of truth resound.
A psalm delivers me where I belong.
In stillness, I am compelled to listen;
with this form, I face my imperfections -
draw close to God, but also my own sin.
Wincing, I receive Divine corrections
and yet I see I’m humbly welcomed in.
In time, I’ll step away from table’s chair
to fill this cup and take a comb to hair.

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Kendra Thompson is a wife, mother, writer and minister living in Northwest Iowa. Her work has appeared in Spectrum, Body Love for All, Poet’s Choice and These Interesting Times. You can find more of her writing on her blog www.crylaughsnort.wordpress.com

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