I realized that you had no power over me, that it was not you alone who were my lover but the entire earth. It was as if my soul had extended countless sensitive feelers, and I lived within everything, perceiving simultaneously Niagara Falls thundering far beyond the ocean and the long golden drops rustling and pattering in the lane.
Down the steep drop-off to sea
without plummeting.
Returned by thermals and sweat to the sky
without rising.
Each following the lost one before it,
thirteen sandpipers and their aluminum streaks
write one word for me in the air
and at the same time
erase it.
Is the soul solid, like iron?
Or is it tender and breakable, like
the wings of a moth in the beak of the owl?
“
| — |
Mary Oliver - Some Questions You Might Ask
|
Work is love, made visible.
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
As a skate’s heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird, – the achieve of, the mastery of the thing.
“
| — |
Gerard Manley Hopkins, Windhover
|
apoetreflects:
O troupe of little vagrants of the world, leave your footprints in my words.
—Rabindranath Tagore, from Stray Birds (Macmillan Company, 1916)
Open It
“Like a gift, beautifully wrapped at the foot of your bed each morning, today asks that you open it and enjoy everything inside. Exhaust yourself with all it has to offer!”
Steve Maraboli
Artwork by Karen Appleton
leahweber:
My brain hums with scraps of poetry and madness.
Come let’s fall in love again let’s turn all the dirt in this world to shiny gold.
