Sooner or later
each of us asks
did I have a purpose?
What was I born to?
I had such a moment this morning.
Each of my life’s 2. 22 billion seconds
had to have gone exactly as it did
to bring me to this,
to experience the flock of warblers
that burst out of the sky
into the middle of my morning, singing
of their wild and precious lives–
up from Mexico, or Central America,
bonded in common struggle from all those days aloft,
looking for food, now,
for grass and moss for a nest.
The things prayers are made of,
for this moment.