Mindful

Ida sent me this Mary Oliver poem....

and it's all that needed today.

Mindful

by Mary Oliver

Every day

I see or I hear 

something

that more or less

kills me 

with delight,

that leaves me 

like a needle

in a haystack

of light.

It is 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?