Of Wrens & Prayers…Mary Oliver Delights Me Once Again

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Superb Fairy Wren (Flickr)

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Happened to Be Standing

I don’t know where prayers go,
or what they do.
Do cats pray, while they sleep
half-asleep in the sun?
Does the opossum pray as it
crosses the street?
The sunflowers? The old black oak
growing older every year?
I know I can walk through the world,
along the shore or under the trees,
with my mind filled with things
of little importance, in full
self-attendance. A condition I can’t really
call being alive.
Is a prayer a gift, or a petition,
or does it matter?
The sunflowers blaze, maybe that’s their way.
Maybe the cats are sound asleep. Maybe not.

While I was thinking this I happened to be standing
just outside my door, with my notebook open,
which is the way I begin every morning.
Then a wren in the privet began to sing.
He was positively drenched in enthusiasm,
I don’t know why. And yet, why not.
I wouldn’t pursuade you from whatever you believe
or whatever you don’t. That’s your business.
But I thought, of the wren’s singing, what could this be
if it isn’t a prayer?
So I just listened, my pen in the air.

– Mary Oliver, A Thousand Mornings

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2 responses to “Of Wrens & Prayers…Mary Oliver Delights Me Once Again

  1. Singing wrens. Cats purring (and snoozing). A child’s laughter. The smile of a friend. Droplets of rain. All are gifts of one kind or another, a joyous chorus/circus of life abundant. I’m glad M.O. has reminded us anew.

    Liked by 1 person

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