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.