Landscape
Isn’t it plain the sheets of moss, except that
they have no tongues, could lecture
all day if they wanted about
spiritual patience? Isn’t it clear
the black oaks along the path are standing
as though they were the most fragile of flowers?
Every morning I walk like this around
the pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart
ever close, I am as good as dead.
Every morning, so far, I’m alive. And now
the crows break off from the rest of the darkness
and burst up into the sky — as though
all night they had thought of what they would like
their lives to be, and imagined
their strong, thick wings.
Mary Oliver
~ * ~
… spring is a time to grow …
{this moment}
a picture, from now, to remember
to updates and extras
i love those words, a little mary i haven’t read before. thank you for sharing.
and i love this profile of a peaceful you, surrounded in a warm pink aura of love.
Thank you for this! I’ve been reading Mary Oliver everywhere recently.
This poem arrived on a day when I was thinking of the power of imagining. Such a gift! Then yesterday, I was expecting to soar upward like the crows, thinking my lights and darks would need just a nod from my consciousness and they would be balanced. But my darks grounded me. So I named them, my darks (my unexamined, habitual, overly conditioned tendencies/behaviours) and I named a light(an inherent gift or power as an antidote) and I moved forward in untangling the rest of the day. This morning I thought, the crows broke off from the darkness but retained the color of darkness itself. And that was the conclusion I came to yesterday, pieces of our darkness will fuel our lightness. And I want my conscious awareness right in the center of that continuum.
Wow, Joline, thank you so much for your comment. You articulated this so beautifully. Thank you.
Blessings,
Stacy
i love seeing your beautiful face!
Ah, thank you. Methinks I should listen to the moss and the trees more often. Mine is a too-busy mind.