Her e-mail inbox always overflows.   
Her outbox doesn’t get much use at all.   
She puts on hold the umpteen-billionth call   
As music oozes forth to placate those   
Who wait, then disconnect. Outside, wind blows,   
Scything pale leaves. She sees a sparrow fall   
Fluttering to a claw-catch on a wall.   
Will He be in today? God only knows.   

She hasn’t seen His face—He’s so aloof.   
She’s long resigned He’ll never know or love her   
But still can wish there were some call, some proof   
That He requires a greater service of her.   
Fingers of rain now drum upon the roof,   
Coming from somewhere, somewhere far above her.   

Poet Bio

What People are Saying

"I understand the expression and understanding and recitation of the POL poems, but it was more that I didn't realize how much this opportunity would mean to me, or how much it would impact how I feel about my future ... I feel my blood running and heart pounding each time I think of my POL poems and teaching them to people."
Taylor Rogers
2015 MT POL Champion