by R.S. Gwynn<\/p>\n
Her e-mail inbox always overflows.
Her outbox doesn’t get much use at all.
She puts on hold the umpteen-billionth call
As music oozes forth to placate those
Who wait, then disconnect. Outside, wind blows,
Scything pale leaves. She sees a sparrow fall
Fluttering to a claw-catch on a wall.
Will He be in today? God only knows.<\/p>\n
She hasn’t seen His face–He’s so aloof.
She’s long resigned He’ll never know or love her
But still can wish there were some call, some proof
That He requires a greater service of her.
Fingers of rain now drum upon the roof,
Coming from somewhere, somewhere far above her.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
by R.S. Gwynn Her e-mail inbox always overflows.Her outbox doesn’t get much use at all.She puts on hold the umpteen-billionth callAs music oozes forth to placate thoseWho wait, then disconnect. Outside, wind blows,Scything pale leaves. She sees a sparrow fallFluttering to a claw-catch on a wall.Will He be in today? God only knows. She hasn’t … <\/p>\n