Loading...
Loading...
Click here if you don’t see subscription options
I hung my soul to dry on a fence post near the property line,
Just out of sight.
 
Days passed, rains came; it stiffened
Small black spots grew bit by bit
Then it was past rescue and fraying.
But I was angry for what she cost me, and now the trouble of repair
And then to wear such a tattered, raggy thing?
 
So a bird came, got some threads for her nest,
Soon another
The tree overhead resounds with birdsong at five am
My soul wakes and smiles, her good ear counts the trills
We sleep and dream again.
Comments are automatically closed two weeks after an article's initial publication. See our comments policy for more.

The latest from america

Despair is easy for anyone who takes seriously the call to love your neighbor as yourself. But hope can come in two ways.
Thomas J. ReeseJuly 16, 2025
A Homily for the Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, by Father Terrance Klein
Terrance KleinJuly 16, 2025
The majority of survey respondents cited their Marian devotions as having played an important role in the discernment and living of their call to religious life.
A young woman kneels and prays at a pew, looking toward the altar of a Catholic church. (iStock/roman_sh)
I have questioned the ethical implications of belonging to an institution with so many members sympathetic to MAGA politics. But I can still rediscover the hope of the Eucharist in my parish.
Kathleen BonnetteJuly 16, 2025