Early Evening

The bare black branches, an upthrust cluster, is filigree uncaptured when later I examine my photos,
elusive
like the spirit deep within me fathoms past the mortifying pain
singing Hallowed Be Thy Name.
Give me the wisdom
to waste the time,
just stand there and stare
as long as the light lasts.
I never hear God speak,
unless it is in the ghostly tendrils of lifted snow
blown by the Breath of the Unseeable Wind.