So heavy

is the long-necked, long-bodied heron,

always it is a surprise

when her smoke-colored wings

open

and she turns

from the thick water,

from the black sticks

of the summer pond,

and slowly

rises into the air

and is gone.

Then, not for the first or the last time,

I take the deep breath

of happiness, and I think

how unlikely it is

that death is a hole in the ground,

how improbable

that ascension is not possible,

though everything seems so inert, so nailed

back into itself–

the muskrat and his lumpy lodge,

the turtle,

the fallen gate.

And especially it is wonderful

that the summers are long

and the ponds so dark and so many,

and therefore it isn’t a miracle

but the common thing,

this decision,

this trailing of the long legs in the water,

this opening up of the heavy body

into a new life: see how the sudden

gray-blue sheets of her wings

strive toward the wind; see how the clasp of nothing

takes her in.

~Mary Oliver

I feel new life within the weeds…

inquiry for today~ where will you shine?

forgotten ways of being…

Let go of your complaints,

forgive those who loved you poorly,

step over your feelings of being rejected,

and have the courage to trust that you won’t fall

into and abyss of nothingness

but into the safe embrace

of a God whose love will heal all your wounds.

~Henri Nouwen