Mindful

Suby, reading by iPad light in our tent, read “one more poem” tonight before bed: ”Mindful” by Mary Oliver.

It’s a poem she and I have shared from time to time.

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?