Keeping Up Wonder (Poem)
Your mother’s trills lullaby down
from heavily canopied treetops.
It is summer after all!
I cannot see her petite brownness
caught up somewhere in all that green,
blended in a tangle of wooden branches
crisscrossed in their climb to catch the sun.
But I hear her, loud and clear,
in intervals from dawn ‘til dusk.
Her call to you- “I am here”,
full of fierce reassurance,
carries from across the yard.
To me and all other earth-bound and sky-borne creatures,
lurking too near to you for her liking,
she is warning- “keep your distance, stay clear”–
her pledge to protect her fledgling
with all the might of motherhood.
When she is on the move her voice travels with her,
on split second flights- stolen–
a sudden shadow–dash, a rustle of cloaking leaf.
Her stream of lilting bravados is steady,
while flitting from one towering arbor to the next,
always connecting her to you,
as she covers sky-space in the space of a wingbeat,
drawing attention to herself,
and away from vulnerable you.
Rest for her is rare.
And then she is there,
swooping down just like that.
She perfectly alights
on the weather-warped and faded box,
once painted bright robin-egg blue.
It is yours now,
a house wren’s home for the taking,
borrowed each Spring, to birth and nest the likes of you.
From where I sit,
I observe her maternity,
within feet of frenetic little head–twitches,
bustles of tail feathers.
With every note,
she throws her whole quivering being into the singing,
her beak wide open giving way to full throttle,
revealing a lemon-yellow coated throat.
She can’t help but rejoice in your existence.
I squint to bring the tiniest hint of you into view,
a flicker of some movement,
through a coin-sized opening.
You never emerge.
You are just to be still,
to know how to wait.
She comes to you.
Magically folding wings,
I try to fathom the process,
of compressing flesh and bone,
so to erase her body
into your inner sanctum.
Sometimes, she bears gift of twig or grub
or the just-best-gift- of all– comfort, and a cuddle.
Nourishing and nudging,
nuancing your needs,
she divines next steps.
How much time I spend,
watching, wasting-
an hour or two -too much,
so much time whiled away
on something
not akin to my nature, my being,
and yet unable to deny
the pure delight and pleasure
of such extended idleness.
O, how the Saint named Francis
would scold!
Being in his company all this time,
set in stone as he is upon the garden wall
shouldering a bird of his own,
poised to be consulted, channeled for his peace,
searched of his open hands for some sign,
thoughts are stirred, his words heard
through the reasoning of the soul:
“Indeed, you are kin
–as am I–
to the birds that I preached to,
with the same tongue that tamed
the wolf,
from a speech that praised God,
for bestowing each of us,
in care
upon the other,
under Brother Sun, below Sister Moon.
For the infinite wisdom
in His cupped hand,
that lowered us all
into the same garden
has in truth led me then,
to ponder the created-
which is to ponder the Creator,
and to wonder upon the Wonder,
which is the Word.”
No time was wasted then,
but for that moment of regret,
when I questioned the gift
of wandering in wonderment
upon His world.
Lisa Rooney
August 2025
Canticle of the Creatures
Most High, all-powerful, good Lord
All praise is Yours, all glory, all honor, and all blessing.
To You, alone, Most High, do they belong.
No mortal lips are worthy to pronounce Your name.
Praised be You, my Lord, with all Your creatures, especially Sir Brother Sun,
who is the day and through whom You give us light.
And he is beautiful and radiant with great splendor; and bears a likeness of You, Most High One.
Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Moon . and the stars, in heaven You formed them clear and precious and beautiful.
Praised be You, my Lord, through Brother Wind,
and through the air, cloudy and serene, and every kind of weather, through whom You give sustenance to Your creatures.
Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Water, who is very useful and humble and precious and chaste.
Praised be You, my Lord, through Brother Fire, through whom You light the night,
and he is beautiful and playful and robust and strong.
Praised be You, my Lord, through our Sister Mother Earth, who sustains and governs us,
and who produces various fruit with colored flowers and herbs.
Praised be You, my Lord, through those who give pardon for Your love, and bear infirmity and tribulation.
Blessed are those who endure in peace, for by You, Most High, shall they be crowned.
Praised be You, my Lord, through our Sister Bodily Death, from whom no one living can escape.
Woe to those who die in mortal sin.
Blessed are those whom death will find in Your most holy will, for the second death shall do them no harm.
Praise and bless my Lord, and give Him thanks, and serve Him with great humility.”
-St. Francis af Assisi