Morning Poem..

Flowers Picked Fresh In The Morning...

I feel very blessed to have a gorgeous garden to walk around in.  First thing in the morning is the best time to pick flowers, so with cup of tea in hand and clippers in the other , I tread quietly amongst the just waking flowers, birds and bees, looking for the prettiest, sweetest smelling blooms..., and as I gather them, I say a quiet prayer of thanks, for sharing their beauty.  

Such simplicity, brings such joy.

Morning Poem ~ Mary Oliver

Every morning

the world is created.

Under the orange

sticks of the sun

the heaped

ashes of the night

turn into leaves again

and fasten themselves to the high branches --

and the ponds appear

like black cloth

on which are painted islands

of summer lilies.

If it is your nature

to be happy

you will swim away along the soft trails

for hours, your imagination

alighting everywhere.

And if your spirit

carries within it

the thorn

that is heavier than lead --

if it's all you can do

to keep on trudging --

there is still

somewhere deep within you

a beast shouting that the earth

is exactly what it wanted --

each pond with its blazing lilies

is a prayer heard and answered

lavishly,

every morning,

whether or not

you have ever dared to be happy,

whether or not

you have ever dared to pray.

Have you ever dared to be happy?