I Arrive Late

I arrive late.
The avian chorus is halfway through the morning program.
Tiny wrens trilling,
crows demanding attention, 
a catbird offering its scratchy exaltation.
The cardinal’s whistle, occasional and sweet.

Their song and the stillness they celebrate
accomplish my intention,
the daily challenge of heart-opening
that requires study, prayer, writing,
the diligent quest for communion with the divine.

The birds don’t know about theology.
They simply offer their voices
to the music of presence,
unstitching the veil to reveal
the cathedral of
this fragile, fulgent moment.