Prayer for a Monday

Give us a lonely, pointless place
Where nothing much of nothing much
Is ever really going on,

Not a wilderness or a town
Or a suburb, unless it’s gone
Bust and the stucco’s flaking off.

Give us an out of the way place,
Half ugly and half abandoned,
Where a few locals come to fish

But don’t catch much of anything,
Where there’s maybe a pit toilet
With a spider in one corner,

Or a drop-off spot for garbage
That a truck picks up once a week,
But also some half-hearted views,

As well, a lot of sky, some woods,
Scruffy and with some trash in them,
But densely branched and home to birds.

Not good enough to brag about
Living in, hiking through, touring,
Or even briefly visiting,

Give us where the wind’s no contest
And small waves lap at crumbled shore,
Empty, more or less. Call us blessed.