Monday, July 28, 2014


If you’re born with the taste of salt on your
Tongue, in sight of a treetop mast; you tend
To take the wide-angle view, catch the stars,
Explore the seas; and search out the ribbon
That fastens the firmament to earth.

Unending whorls of space, deep reaches
Of ocean clutch at me like the rumble
Of earthquakes. You who are ground
And sky and sea, remember me. I tremble
Like a blown leaf on damp trampled sand.

I am not the wave who washes all things
Clean nor the shore who reaches for the lost.
I am the seashell with its ear wide open, the
Blade of grass who bends to listen for the
Possibilities in every breath.

Thursday, July 17, 2014

morning prayer by mary oliver

Morning Prayer by Mary Oliver

Every morning
the world
is created.
Under the orange

sticks of the sun
the heaped
ashes of the night
turn into  leaves again

and fasten themselves to the ;high branches--
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands

of summer lilies.
If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails

for hours, your imagination
alighting everywhere
and if your spirit carries within it

the thorn
that is heavier than lead--
if it's all you can do
to keep on trudging--

there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what it wanted--

each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
every morning,

whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.