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Mirrored Prayer

How often have I passed by a simple puddle without seeing the reflection it offers? The secrets it keeps, fleeting as the sun rises to take it to itself.

The puddle gleams like glass, reflecting the canopy of trees that form a protective dome, guarding its secret existence day in and day out. Such a small, impermanent feature that seems to hold its own secrets. If I lean far enough over my knees will the content of my heart be revealed in the reflection? This is not unlike the process of prayer I muse. The mirroring of our will, the offering of it up to God to shape and reflect even further into his will.  

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