It has been awhile since I have blogged, and that is because I have been engaging in mindfulness around health issues, quality of life, etc.  While I have missed being here, I have appreciated the quiet time, in the mornings especially, to read, pray, and “just be.”

This poem found me recently, and I thought I’d post it today.  Perhaps, it was meant to find you too.


by Mary Oliver

Every day
I see or hear
that more or less

kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle

in the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for —
to look, to listen,

to lose myself
inside this soft world —
to instruct myself
over and over

in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant —
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help

but grow wise
with such teachings
as these —
the untrimmable lighthope light over mountains

of the world,
the ocean’s shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?

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