My Father’s Prayers

Not all his prayers

were spoken from his knees.

Some leaped exultant

through the cornstalks’ hoeing,

some stumbled,

stiff as hailstones

on downed wheat.

Most of his prayers

were given

on his feet.

His last devotion

took us by surprise,

so short it was,

so quick—

a stifled sigh,

like a far tractor

on a country road

at night,

whispering the world

goodbye.