Tuesday, October 15, 2013

every day

by Mary Oliver 

Every day
I see or hear
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?


1 comment:

  1. Oh, now I have three of he books and another sort of "how to" book. This poem is surely one of my favorites of hers... "untrimmable light" And what an image you captured - it takes my breath away.


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