Thursday Poem - May

May, and among the miles of leafing,
blossoms storm out of the darkness—
windflowers and moccasin flowers. The bees

dive into them and I too, to gather

their spiritual honey. Mute and meek,

yet theirs is the deepest certainty that

this existence too—this sense of

well-being, the flourishing of the

physical body—rides near the hub

of the miracle that everything 
is a part of, is as good as a poem

or a prayer, can also make luminous

any dark place on earth.

Mary Oliver

Thank you to my friend Frances at Beautiful Strangers for reacquainting me with Mary's exquisite poem.