Praying

by Mary Oliver

It doesn’t have to be

the blue iris, it could be

weeds in a vacant lot, or a few

small stones; just

pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don’t try

to make them elaborate, this isn’t

a contest but a doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which

another voice may speak.

From Thirst, Boston: Beacon Press, 2006, page 37.