Little Blogs 2

Each day until I can no longer read

Four days ago I suddenly had a thought as I looked at my shelves of poetry books: from this day until I can no longer read I intend to read at least ONE POEM per day. Or night...I have started with Mary Oliver's collection called Thirst, the one following the death of her partner of over forty years. Hard to keep to one poem...and mostly don't...but how can lines like these be anything but an invitation to read one more?

My work is loving the world...

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?

Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me

keep my mind on what matters,

which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished...

Besides which...it means I go to sleep with a smile of peaceful forest scenes...

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Latest comments

01.04 | 20:45

Thanks, Mary Beth...that is how it felt in that moment. And still says with me. Thanks for commenting...

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01.04 | 16:45

Have only peeked into your poeming on Easter Sunday...and lo....feel the paschal mystery, soul'd mystery proclaims Exultet...in a very interior manner! Thanks s

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18.03 | 17:38

Edith is our mentor and prophet for the times she knows we are trying to let go, be freed from whatever impedes growth,goodness and giving!

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14.03 | 19:26

Thank you Brenda for providing this resource. Your selection of books make fine companions on life's path, especially at this time.

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