by Sheila Wellehan
I belong to the church of agnostics
but on that very dark, very icy
winter night in the woods,
walking my two dogs much too late,
foolishly rambling on the sheer ice
with the sky pitch-black at five—
on that very dark, very icy
winter night in the woods,
when white flakes fell from the sky
making our passage so much safer,
the sudden security of snow crunching underfoot
was the answer to an unconscious prayer.
SHEILA WELLEHAN’S poetry has recently been featured in The American Journal of Poetry, the Aurorean, Menacing Hedge, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, Whale Road Review, and elsewhere. She lives in Cape Elizabeth, Maine. Visit her online at www.sheilawellehan.com
Featured Image: “Vintage Snowflakes” by thethreesisters
Psaltery & Lyre 