Evening Call to Prayer

What does it sound like when we are called to pray? What does it feel like, taste like, look like? Does it change , that call, over the arc of th day?

A dear friend asked that I write something -- three somethings, actually -- about what it's like, being called to prayer. Here's the call I hear in the evening, slow and sonorous and deep blue shading to black.


I heard the thunder,
Smelled the gathering ozone
And wind.
And I heard the crackle of fire
That danced,
A flickerflame of heat
And light.
And I heard the trembling earth
That rolled,
Before it settled again,
Into its infinite rhythms
Of slow and time.
I heard a psalm --
A hymn to God
In the thunder,
In the fire
In the pitch of the earth.
And into the quiet that bordered
the very edges of that psalm,
I heard stillness,
A voice that whispered to me,
that sang a benediction to me,
that called me to pray.