A couple weeks ago I spent a Saturday morning at a writing workshop of sorts, which used as its core the poems of Mary Oliver. Yes, it was wonderful. It made me realize however, that it has been way too long since I've shared one of her poems here. So here's one to start a new beginning of sharing the works of this very special writer. It also happens to be the one I read when we were asked to bring one of our favorites to the workshop.
Today I'm flying low and I'm
not saying a word.
I'm letting all the voodoos of ambition sleep.
The world goes on as it must,
the bees in the garden rumbling a little,
the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten.
And so forth.
But I'm taking the day off.
Quiet as a feather.
I hardly move though really I'm traveling
a terrific distance.
Stillness. One of the doors
into the temple.