Praying My Age

When shadows lengthen,
and things that hide in shadows lurk,
be to me the shaft of light
that gilds me in surprise.
Colour my sky.

When evening darkens,
and landmarks blur within the murk,
be to me the eyes of owl,
that guide a seeking glide.
Charm me to fly.

When fog confuses,
and every move is heavy work,
be to me a well-known voice
that clearly calls my name.
Let me know why.