Prayer Near a Farm by Black Mountain, North Carolina: 11:36 P.M., Early May

Our Father, who art in
heaven and also
the centipede grass and the creek
and the engine that warbles
roadside: thank you
for the black
silhouette of mountains,
deep black
against the regular black
of the night. Thank you
for the field between me
and them
even though I can’t see it.
And thanks for the ability to imagine
what can’t be seen.
I imagine you
just as these lowing cows
must have faith in the field
as they glide across it
seeing nothing out here
but the outlines of each other,
my headlights,
an obliterated barn in the distance.