C.M. Rivers

Mary, who helps us remember tenderness when we find an insect on our pillow, or a bat in the house.

Mary, who reminds us of a hundred walks in the wilderness, even as we stare at lamp-lit sheetrock and worry about work.

Mary, who tells us what we knew the moment we were born but have forgotten.

Mary, who makes us feel less alone beneath the ripening grapefruit moon.

Mary, honor student of botany, biology, ornithology.

Mary, whose words are chosen and ordered as if by a kindly saint.