Another Prayer Session

My medications are not done adjusting,
The winds in my head have sped up, gusting,
Like a crow’s body swaying, time after time,
As his claws clench to the fence line.

A wood pecker banging his beak upon the rotten tree,
Trying to survive on bugs to eat,
I raid the store like everyone else,
To find nothing but empty shelves.

Planning and plotting about what to do,
And all I can, Lord, is trust you.
As I try to manage all the changing of plans,
Now being told to quarantine by the government’s man.

This awakens my brain even more,
And the news media is keeping score,
I’m trying to combat manic, mixed mood and depression,
Lord, we need another good prayer session.