by Brandon James O’Neil

I.
I saw the conifer—but did not
know it to be a tree—
from the bus window
pointed dark against the sky
it stood taller than the houses
I thought it must be
the steeple of a chapel where
I might go and pray for awhile
Perhaps I am not wrong
II.
A mallard hen webbed
her feet on the window ledge
away from springtime mates
Our meeting was not dismissed
and she watched us skeptical
poised on the in-between
Loudly prayers and hymns praised
a Creator whose handiwork
posed just outside the window
Where two drakes wait and want
nothing but love to leap from
the chapel window into their nests