“My work is the world. Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird - equal seekers of sweetness. Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums...” ~ Mary Oliver, Thirst
Instead of the news, which bleeds the heart and dehydrates the soul to parchment pieces, there is walking and poetry- in the mornings - early - then back with a luminous offering for the day: Mary Oliver assuredly knows about this for she happens to be my soul companion. I search for the "terror breath" amidst the soil and moss and find it, my end of the world. Her eyes, ears, nose and skin are as mine searching, welcoming, open and introspective to the details of nature.
Unlike Mary, who literally employed herself to the valiant bountiful and available woods of her life, I need to take a hundred steps to discover mine.
Living in a harsh, chaotic modern city is not the ideal of places to find walking trails littered with trees, birds or flowers - but God be blessed, I am always planted at places most conducive to the soul propitious for meanderings.
Today, there is much to write about, which in itself is balm for my mind. There are words un-uttered, phrases un-tried, patois to discover and one's own parlance to cultivate as of a dried field awaiting the inauguration of rain. I write my own poetry too.