Every Morning I’m Alive

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mossdrop

 

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Isn’t it plain the sheets of moss, except that
they have no tongues, could lecture
all day if they wanted about

spiritual patience?  Isn’t it clear
the black oaks along the path are standing
as though they were the most fragile of flowers?

Every morning I walk like this around
the pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart
ever close, I am as good as dead.

Every morning, so far, I’m alive…
~Mary Oliver from “Landscape” in New and Selected Poems

 

 

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drizzlemoss

 

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If even the mighty oaks standing along a path are as fragile as flowers,
then how fragile is my heart?

I wake each morning reminded of the treasure of a new day, cranking open the rusty doors of my heart.

Let the fresh air of grace and gratitude fill me today.

 

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Keeping Open the Door of My Heart

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Isn’t it plain the sheets of moss, except that
they have no tongues, could lecture
all day if they wanted about

spiritual patience? Isn’t it clear
the black oaks along the path are standing
as though they were the most fragile of flowers?

Every morning I walk like this around
the pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart
ever close, I am as good as dead.
~Mary Oliver from “Landscape”

 

________

Even in mid-January,
when endless days drag on dark and damp~
even when I am unconvinced
new life and light will ever return,
the mosses grow with enthusiasm,
requiring so little to stay alive~
they patiently encourage me
to keep open my heart
to the possibility
that even now,
especially now,
I too can thrive.

webbymoss

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mossdrop