Solstice

In celebration of the dance between sun and earth, consider this poem by Mary Oliver:

In the Storm

Some black ducks
were shrugged up
on the shore.
It was snowing

hard, from the east,
and the sea
was in disorder.
Then some sanderlings,

five inches long
with beaks like wire,
flew in,
snowflakes on their backs,

and settled
in a row
behind the ducks --
whose backs were also

covered with snow --
so close
they were all but touching,
they were all but under

the roof of the duck's tails,
so the wind, pretty much,
blew over them.
They stayed that way, motionless,

for maybe an hour,
then the sanderlings,
each a handful of feathers,
shifted, and were blown away

out over the water
which was still raging.
But, somehow,
they came back

and again the ducks,
like a feathered hedge,
let them
crouch there, and live.

If someone you didn't know
told you this,
as I am telling you this,
would you believe it?

Belief isn't always easy.
But this much I have learned --
if not enough else --
to live with my eyes open.

I know what everyone wants
is a miracle.
This wasn't a miracle.
Unless, of course, kindness --

as now and again
some rare person has suggested --
is a miracle.
As surely it is.

 

 

From Thirst, by Mary Oliver

Photo by Peter

Comments

[Suzanne]

Everything without exception is a miracle.

[Genju]

oh. I've been watching the pelicans fly sine wave formations over the waves.

Driving down here involved a 10 hour journey through a blizzard in Virginia. A focused a I was as navigator to keep the truck from ditching to one side or the other, a little colour in the bushes caught my eye. Tiny female cardinal, balanced on a twig, watching the wild rides passing her by.

[Uku]

Oh, solstice, I forgot! It has been so snowy that it is so bright! :) Thank you for reminding!

Beautiful poem!

[Barry Briggs]

Thank you, Suzanne, Genju and Uku, for your many miracles!

[puerhan]

Ah kindness.
Ah.

_/\_