A Sunday Poem | Mindful

I wasn’t planning to be back with a poem today, but this one presented itself to me on Saturday and I couldn’t resist!

Mindful

Every day
 I see or I hear
   something
    that more or less

kills me
 with delight,
   that leaves me
    like a needle

in the 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 presentation.
 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?

Why I Wake Early, Mary Oliver

I love her focus on the mundane, “the drab.” Her focus on joy and delight.

(As I was typing this, a hummingbird came to the feeder on my window. Delight! Joy! My heart pounded and I froze, not wanting to miss a second.)

Enjoy your Sunday, friends.