Snatches of Grace

Five minutes on my knees,
a quick prayer pacing around the playground,
or a sudden ear to hear while frying onions.
Today the clouds lined up, orderly,
like furrows- the field of the sky ripening
blush pink, then orange, then gold,
and I cried while carpooling, wanting
only you,
                  only you.
It comforts me to think that,
like my husband, you understand
the children’s demands
and don’t mind our stolen intimacies
behind closed doors during Sesame Street,
or confidences whispered over the murmur
of the washer.   Some day
we will have whole days
to speak and read and then be silent,
re-learning one another, joining hands
and coming apart in the intricate dance
of worship.  Then I will again
have time to seek Your face.
For now I am grateful for snatches of grace.