Thanksgiving Offering

A friend sent me this poem.   It struck me as being perfect for today.

Mindful

 

 

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?

 

 

-Mary Oliver


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