Saint Malo and The Wrens<\/p>\n
By<\/p>\n
Jennifer Angelina Petro<\/p>\n
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The wren laid her eggs<\/p>\n
In the cloak St. Malo had put on the ground<\/p>\n
As he pruned his vines.<\/p>\n
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Having finished his daily, self-sustaining work,<\/p>\n
He reached down for his cloak and saw mother wren,<\/p>\n
And her little clutch of eggs.<\/p>\n
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He marveled that each egg was smaller<\/p>\n
Than a grape, that each egg contained wings<\/p>\n
And songs as sweet as the melodies of flutes.<\/p>\n
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He stood up, fists draped gently on his hips,<\/p>\n
Took his clippings and shears,<\/p>\n
And walked slowly back to the monastery,<\/p>\n
Smiling as he pondered how the God of all<\/p>\n
Cares for mother wren and her sleeping little ones,<\/p>\n
And how he, for his part, had accepted the opportunity<\/p>\n
To encourage future songs.<\/p>\n
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