Poets live with silence:
the silence before the poem;
the silence whence the poem comes;
the silence in between the words, as you
drink the words, watch them glide through your mind,
feel them slide down your throat
towards you heart.
~Michael Shepherd
what follows the loud bellowing thunder? how do you receive the quiet?
inquiry for today~ when you discover rain and poems and the meaning in your day…..then may you feel real and wise and ok……
It was early, which has always been my hour to begin looking at the world
and of course, even in the darkness, to begin listening into it,
especially under the pines where the owl lives and sometimes calls out
as I walk by, as he did on this morning. So many gifts!
What do they mean? In the marshes where the pink light was just arriving
the mink with his bristle tail was stalking the soft-eared mice,
and in the pines the cones were heavy, each one ordained to open.
Sometimes I need only to stand wherever I am to be blessed.
Little mink, let me watch you.
Little mice, run and run.
Dear pine cone, let me hold you as you open.
~Mary Oliver
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