Wrens in the Poplar

There are peeps
from the wren house
high in the poplar
as the sun peeks
over the roses.
Or maybe I’m wrong.

Perhaps I hear altar boys
reciting their prayers
at the foot of the altar
at the start of a Latin Mass
decades ago in a church
silent now for years.

Whether it’s peeps
or prayers I’m not certain
until I see the cat
hunkered like a tank
under the poplar, hoping
to receive communion.

By Donal Mahoney
Wren peeking from brightly painted bird house

Donal Mahoney, a native of Chicago, lives in St. Louis, MO. He has worked as an editor for The Chicago Sun-Times, Loyola University Press and Washington University in St. Louis. Read more of his poems in Eye on Life Magazine here.

Photo by jarrod

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