i haven’t been reading lately. not much offline anyway. i request books at the library and can never get through them before the library asks for them back. sigh.
but i have been forcing the poetry. no matter how tired. i flop my arm over to my nightstand, grab whichever book of poetry, pry open the book (and my eyes), and, usually mostly under the covers, read at least one poem to the end.
last night it was this one:
Invitation
by Mary Oliver
Oh do you have time
to linger
for just a little while
out of your busy
and very important day
for the goldfinches
that have gathered
in a field of thistles
for a musical battle
to see who can sing
the highest note,
or the lowest,
or the most expressive of mirth,
or the most tender?
Their strong, blunt beaks
drink the air
as they strive
melodiously
not for your sake
and not for mine
and not for the sake of winning
but for sheer delight and gratitude—
believe us, they say,
it is a serious thing
just to be alive
on this fresh morning
in this broken world.
I beg of you,
do not walk by
without pausing
to attend to this
rather ridiculous performance.
It could mean something.
It could mean everything.
It could be what Rilke meant, when he wrote:
You must change your life.
From Red Bird
Beacon Press
Copyright © 2008
All rights reserved.
I love that. can’t wait for you to come.
Beautiful. And thankfully this morning I stopped, looked and listened to the goldfinches on my feeder.
There is something about spring in New England that has always made me believe in a higher power — the joy of watching everything come to life, the end of all that cold and stark darkness.
This week my sister, after a year long battle, was granted a “bailout” on her mortgage, allowing her family to remain in their home despite my brother in law losing his job.
And yesterday my son had skin tests reveal that he has most likely outgrown his life-threatening food allergies. All of them.
This morning I was watching the goldfinches on my feeder and thinking about how they were my grandmothers favorite, how she could imitate their call perfectly. And I was wondering if she was pulling some strings for us.
I got goosebumps when I read this poem. So perfectly in time with my life right now. Thank you.
C
Have you posted about the blog friendship box yet? I hope I didn’t miss it. People at my site have been asking me about it. I didn’t have your email address so I couldn’t email you to ask.
Oh, Mary Oliver is so wonderful and she always makes me cry. I’m sure you know “Wild Geese.” It get me every time. She’s so generous with us faulty humans.
thank you.