Sixty-seven years, oh Lord, to look at the clouds,

the trees in deep, moist summer,

daisies and morning glories

opening every morning

their small, ecstatic faces—

Or maybe I should just say

how I wish I had a voice

like the meadowlark’s,

sweet, clear, and reliably

slurring all day long

from the fencepost, or the long grass

where it lives

in a tiny but adequate grass hut

beside the mullein and the everlasting,

the faint-pink roses

that have never been improved, but come to bud

then open like little soft sighs

under the meadowlark’s whistle, its breath-praise,

its thrill-song, its anthem, its thanks, its

alleluia. Alleluia, oh Lord.

~Mary Oliver

this beautiful day……wherever you are…..

inquiry for today~ how many times will you notice your world? look up? and look down, feeling your feet……

from the depths of sky and sea

In the wilderness, one of the things we can come to understand is the true nature e of our being. We are partly drawn into the woods, to the ocean, and to lush green meadows, because the waves, trees, and grasses are free from egoist habits of grandiosity, deficiency, comparing, or judging. They rest naturally in what they are, without self-consciousness, merged within the seamless fabric of life. There is beautiful freedom in that existence, and with close contact, we can have a similar experience of unity.

~Mark Coleman