Where there is a
dream, living in
settled glass,
(the kind you find in an
abbey
in an alley of
sinners & saints)
    where there is always a small
bird with her
"I trust you" wings in a
nest where she rests
assured

among chorales and
readings and phrases as
  inevitable as forget-me-nots-
where red meets blue
with the welding of
gold
and prayers are a
hatchlings
   lullaby

I've heard of people
praying
   for
everything,
but not even
    birds
      answering
       their
            cry.