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.