Mindful (Monday Poem)

 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 is 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 exceptinal,

 

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?

 

 

 

from Devotions: the Selected Poems of Mary Oliver

Penguin, 2017