Thursday, August 12, 2010

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
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?

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