The grass beneath a tree is content

and silent.

 

A squirrel holds an acorn in its praying hands,

offering thanks, it looks like.

 

The nut tastes sweet; I bet the prayer spiced

it up somehow.

 

The broken shell falls on the grass,

and the grass looks up

and says,

“Hey.”

 

And the squirrel looks down

and says,

 

“Hey.”

 

I have been saying “Hey” lately too,

to God.

 

Formalities just weren’t

working.

Daniel Ladinsky