Mindful

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 my self 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.

~~Mary Oliver