I am touching a few leaves.
I am noticing the way the yellow butterflies
move together, in a twinkling cloud, over the field.

And I am thinking: maybe just looking and listening
is the real work.

Maybe the world, without us,
is the real poem.

~Mary Oliver

keeping the dream alive all summer long…

inquiry for today~ may you sense and feel the heart of things…

why we choose hope…

With summer came the sense that all of life slowed to smell the deep green grass,

to watch fireflies dance on an evening breeze,

or to hear the gentle lap of lake water against the sandy shore.

~Karen Kingsbury