The last golden light of the sun
sets through the western thicket.
The hallowed gloam of evening races
to meet the hidden horizon.

Since I was a boy lost in the pews –
a small town church, St. Joe’s –
I’ve been taught about faith, hope, and love.
Now these, as a man, seem to be falling
into an autumn of the fallow field
when the greater virtue, the needed one,
the long season of the waiting heart,
fades across sunset into night.

I wonder what the morning will bring
when the sun breaks its way
through the last shreds of night?

Portland, Oregon – April 29, 2020