And some days, ahhh, some days, the whisper comes with the voice of two friends. One the chalice that carried the whisper. The other the succulent wine of wisdom’s words. May I never underestimate the power of nature nor poetry shared. The world does have such beauty still. May the pouring gift to all a grace whispered.
Mindful by Mary Oliver (Why I Wake Early)
Every dayI see or hear
something
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 light of the world,
the ocean’s shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?
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