4880#4880 - Monday, April 1, 2013 - Editor: Gloria Lee
- Apr 2, 2013#4880 - Monday, April 1, 2013 - Editor: Gloria LeeThe Nonduality Highlights http://groups.yahoo.com/group/NDhighlights/Yasar Koç Photography
Such Singing in the Wild BranchesIt was spring
and finally I heard him
among the first leaves
then I saw him clutching the limbin an island of shade
with his red-brown feathers
all trim and neat for the new year.
First, I stood stilland thought of nothing.
Then I began to listen.
Then I was filled with gladness
and that's when it happened,when I seemed to float,
to be, myself, a wing or a tree
and I began to understand
what the bird was saying,and the sands in the glass
for a pure white moment
while gravity sprinkled upwardlike rain, rising,
and in fact
it became difficult to tell just what it was that was singing
it was the thrush for sure, but it seemednot a single thrush, but himself, and all his brothers,
and also the trees around them,
as well as the gliding, long-tailed clouds
in the perfectly blue sky all, all of themwere singing.
And, of course, yes, so it seemed,
so was I.
Such soft and solemn and perfect music doesn't lastfor more than a few moments.
It's one of those magical places wise people
like to talk about.
One of the things they say about it, that is true,is that, once you've been there,
you're there forever.
Listen, everyone has a chance.
Is it spring, is it morning?Are there trees near you,
and does your own soul need comforting?
Quick, then open the door and fly on your heavy feet; the song
may already be drifting away.~Mary Oliver,"Such Singing in the Wild Branches"
Owls and Other Fantasies: Poems and Essays,
Beacon Press, Boston, 2003Yasar Koç PhotographySome Questions You Might AskIs the soul solid, like iron?
Or is it tender and breakable, like
the wings of a moth in the beak of an owl?
Who has it, and who doesn't?
I keep looking around me.
The face of the moose is as sad
as the face of Jesus.
The swan opens her white wings slowly.
In the fall, the black bear carries leaves into the darkness.
One question leads to another.
Does it have a shape? Like an iceberg?
Like the eye of a hummingbird?
Does it have one lung, like the snake and the scallop?
Why should I have it, and not the anteater
who loves her children?
Why should I have it, and not the camel?
Come to think of it, what about maple trees?
What about the blue iris?
What about all the little stones, sitting alone in the moonlight?
What about roses, and lemons, and their shining leaves?
What about the grass?~Mary Oliver,"Some Questions You Might Ask"
House of Light, Beacon Press, Boston (1990)Yasar Koç PhotographyThirstAnother morning and I wake with thirst
for the goodness I do not have. I walk
out to the pond and all the way God has
given us such beautiful lessons. Oh Lord,
I was never a quick scholar but sulked
and hunched over my books past the hour
and the bell; grant me, in your mercy,
a little more time. Love for the earth
and love for you are having such a long
conversation in my heart. Who knows what
will finally happen or where I will be sent,
yet already I have given a great many things
away, expecting to be told to pack nothing,
except the prayers which, with this thirst,
I am slowly learning.~Mary Oliver"Thirst", Beacon Press, Boston, 2006