Mindful
By Mary Oliver
Every day
I 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?
That beautiful poem reminds me of grateful I feel when I’m laying back in my chaise looking up at my back garden, which is bordered by majestic tall green trees against a clear blue sky. Sitting in the shade with a gentle breeze and a tall glass of homemade lemonade make me so lucky to be on the right side of the grass.
I don’t remember this one by Mary… thank you so much for posting it
Hey Laurie, I hadn’t seen this one before either and decided it was another perfect poem. Mary Oliver can do no wrong eh? She weaves words into magic.
Lovely, lovely, lovely!
Laurie, I’m so glad you appreciate it too. So, so exquisite. Mary Oliver is a genius.
Oh dear…so beautiful, so soul-wrenchingly right.
Mandy, utterly soul-wrenchingly right is it exactly.