Sunday Book Club

Woodstock is a lover of books…to chew. Mary Oliver was her morning read, but then again, a wadded paper ball might have been an equal draw.

Since I couldn’t find an Oliver poem about cats to read to her, I chose this one:

Praying

It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just pay
attention, then patch
a few words together, and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest, but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.