Every night, after we change her diaper and put her pajamas on, after she’s been nursed and after she’s been read her bedtime story, we recite this poem, by Karla Kuskin:
Wordless words.
A tuneless tune.
Blow out the sun.
Draw down the shade.
Turn off the dog.
Snap on the stars.
Unwrap the moon.
Wish leafy, sleeping trees good night
and listen
to the day shut tight.
“Your prayer can be poetry, and poetry can be your prayer.” —Noelani Day
