Communion
The underside of egret wings glow peach when they fly towards the sunrise.
The sky is a mix of pastel pink and blue
painted with feather-white clouds.
The orange yolk of the sun extends into the morning mist
creating an expanse of rich color.
The cratered orb of the moon
seems to be emerging from nowhere
to observe the inhabitants of Earth.
I moved my prayer from the porch this morning
to get a different view of the sun waking up.
When I returned to my rocker,
I discovered that someone else was praying there in my place,
perhaps also seeking a novel perspective.
A mantis, long and lean
with front appendages drawn together in reverence,
was waiting for me.
I beheld him in equal reverence
and then—
no, this really happened—
he turned his head and looked at me.
Communion.