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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 shells fall 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.
Love Poems From God, p. 82 Daniel Ladinsky
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