Prayer Lessons

By Danna Faulds

I ask the trees to teach me
how to pray and, being innately
generous, of course they oblige.
The old trees seem most
knowledgeable, but even the
saplings lift their limbs to the
sky without ceasing. The trees
speak to me of silence and
patiently waiting for answers.
They describe how to recognize
divine presence in the dirt,
in biting winds, and pristine
starry nights. Prayer is no
different than life, they tell me,
sometimes difficult, always
an act of faith. One black walnut
raises his voice above the rest.
“Follow the example of the
goldfinch,” he says. “Goldfinches
pray while they eat, pray as
they fly, pray whether their
feathers are bright yellow or
dull green. Ive never seen a
goldfinch who isn’t glad to be
alive, and grateful for the
least little twig to land on.”