Notes:
- Photo: DK @ Daybreak. 5:15, 5:25 am, July 22, 2022. 73° F. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. A few more pictures from this morning here and here.
- Poem Source: liriostigre
Tag: Mary Oliver
Monday Morning Wake-Up Call
It’s impossible to be lonely
when you’re zesting an orange.
Scrape the soft rind once
and the whole room
fills with fruit.
Look around: you have
more than enough. Always have.
You just didn’t notice
until now.
— Amy Schmidt, Abundance (in memory of Mary Oliver) (Rattle.com, January 20, 2019)
Notes
- Photo: Eva Bronzini (via Pexels)
- Poem via Schonwieder
Saturday Morning. Why I Wake Early.
Everyday
I see or hear
something
that more or less
kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle
in the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for —
to look, to listen,
to lose myself
inside this soft world —
to instruct myself
over and over
in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,
the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant —
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,
the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help
but grow wise
with such teachings
as these —
the untrimmable light
of the world,
the ocean’s shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?
— Mary Oliver, from “Mindful” in Why I Wake Early.
Notes:
- Photo: DK @ 6:03 a.m. this morning. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. 47F. More photos from this morning here.
- Mary Oliver via Alive on All Channels
Without spring who knows what would happen. A lot of nothing, I suppose.
Notes:
- Grace (and George) building their nest. (Grace being named by my good friend LouAnn.)
- My Swan(s) @ Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. 6:57 a.m. yesterday morning. 42° F. Other photos from yesterday morning here. Backstories on swans here.
- Post Title: Mary Oliver, from “Late Spring,” Felicity: Poems (via Alive on All Channels)
do not walk by without pausing to attend to this rather ridiculous performance
Oh do you have time
to linger
for just a little while
out of your busy
and very important day
for the goldfinches
that have gathered
in a field of thistles
for a musical battle,
to see who can sing
the highest note,
or the lowest,
or the most expressive of mirth,
or the most tender?
Their strong, blunt beaks
drink the air
as they strive
melodiously
not for your sake
and not for mine
and not for the sake of winning
but for sheer delight and gratitude –
believe us, they say,
it is a serious thing
just to be alive
on this fresh morning
in the broken world.
I beg of you,
do not walk by
without pausing
to attend to this
rather ridiculous performance.
It could mean something.
It could mean everything.
It could be what Rilke meant, when he wrote:
You must change your life.
— Mary Oliver, “Invitation” in A Thousand Mornings (New York: Penguin Books, 2013).
Photo by Joshua J. Cotten of male goldfinch, Backyard, Cordova, TN, USA in October 2021 via unsplash