Posted by: Peadar Ban | January 1, 2010

And Listen

There goes that wren again.
Just finished his supper now he stands
On that old post outside my bedroom
Piping the day away, evening in,
And I am inside folding the wash,
An old undershirt in my hands
While he sings for sunset
To come along and close another one.

Across the bed an archipelago of clothes
Lies waiting to be shaken, folded
And then put away .  Wrens haven’t
Any such things to do.  They can’t
Understand why I don’t sing,
But I am listening.

The sun, now behind snow bound clouds, and hidden
Will pause, I imagine, one blue sock in my hand, and listen.

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Responses

  1. I love this one. I love the quaintness of the picture it puts in my head; a person going about the mundane chores of life, perhaps a bit envious of the freedom from such that the wren has, being called just to listen.

    I think God often calls me in those moments to just listen. And perhaps when I’ve listen long enough I may find my own voice and sing.

    • Hello Kathy,
      Well, the person in question was me when the thought popped into my head. I understand how those things work. Thanks.

  2. I do like the image of the Sun, like the man, pausing to listen, sock hand. Odd, isn’t it? how such little tasks almost permit the listening? I remember, as a Chaplain how much easier confidences were when we were ‘doing’ Occupational Therapy together. Remember too, my Grandmother speaking of the companionship and the spontaneous prayer that happened when they met to make blankets ‘for our boys’ and pack red cross parcels for pows. Together or alone, little tasks greatly increase our awareness. I wonder why that is?

    • Hello Alys,
      I wonder if it is the “restfulness” of those things that allow us to slip the bonds and connect with the deeper truth around us, to lift the veail that covers reality.
      Thank you.


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