Creativity

To wait upon a breeze with all windows open
is akin to prayer,
less request
than practiced inhabitation.

It is true.  Breeze blows
and, then, for a time, may not;
or return as storm
when rain,
more than anything needed,
becomes a flood.

It is by grace we survive,
not by our will,
less even by understanding.
Hope, we know, by itself is helpless
and becomes soon dead.

No place to go and nothing more to do,
than sit quietly in expectation,
lights on, all windows open.