every day

Mindful
by Mary Oliver 

Every day
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?