COMMUNION

I was drinking my coffee on the back porch like I always do
and making a list like I always do
when a small squirrel happened upon me
through the slats of my fence,
eyeing me carefully
the way, I imagine, Cezanne would study a bowl of fruit.

I humbly offered a bit of strawberry
(my breakfast)
that, with a few more cautious moments,
he gladly devoured,
and after celebrating the unlikely eucharist,
off he went to loftier adventures,
abandoning me with my coffee and a thought:

this is how it will always be,
wandering from this to that,
praying that God grant us strawberries
or understanding
or something in between.

 

 

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