Reading

Such Singing in the Wild Branches (2003)

It was spring
and finally I heard him
among the first leaves—
then I saw him clutching the limb

in an island of shade
with his red-brown feathers
all trim and neat for the new year.
First, I stood still

and 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
stopped
for a pure white moment
while gravity sprinkled upward

like 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 seemed

not 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 them

were singing.
And, of course, yes, so it seemed,
so was I.
Such soft and solemn and perfect music doesn't last

for 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

reading

I pray to the birds
because I believe they will carry the messages of my heart upward.

I pray to them
because I believe in their existence,
the way their songs begin and end each day~
the invocations and benedictions of the Earth.
I pray to the birds
because they remind me of what I love
rather than what I fear.
And at the end of my prayers,
they teach me how to listen.
Terry Tempest

reading

Oceans

I have a feeling that my boat
has struck, down there in the depths,
against a great thing.

And nothing happens!
Nothing...Silence...Waves...

Nothing happens?
Or has everything happened,
and are we standing now, quietly, in the new life?

 ~Juan Ramon Jiménez
translated by Robert Bly

Yoga will not meet today - Friday January 9