At hand, my sturdy oak rod, truly saved itself
By lightning, suffices as listener to my ambling
Prayers. The spreading sky and following road
Become my tabernacle, a peregrine my deacon.
My family at the farm engage in life well-bred,
Raised with devotion to the spirit we are born
To tend; that duty is well-begun; for her duty,
Mother was well-anointed as our shepherdess.
Attend me closely as I walk mother, guide me
From nether bramble into my salvation. Amen.
Keith Moul’s poems and photos are published widely. Finishing Line Press released his chapbook, The Future as a Picnic Lunch, in November, 2015. Aldrich Press has published Naked Among Possibilities in August and No Map at Hand for 2017; Finishing Line published Investment in Idolatry early in 2017. These poems are all from a new work about prairie life through our history.