My second born son is beginning his Kindergarten journey this July. In this month of love, I am enveloped in a sort of contemplative vortex. I am full of emotion. I have given him roots together, with his father, and his wings. Now he gets to use both. It's beautiful. It's excrucitingly beautiful to come from where I have, and to see my seedlings blossom and flower. I am folding myself into this experience, into Mary Oliver, into a meditative and innerly place. I'm in transition after 8 solid years of staying at home with my two boys.
Wild Geese- 1986 You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place in the family of things.
Something Mama Wrote in Her Sleep
Baby boy drapes over me,
a ribbon through my hair
Legs hanging down,
Cheek to my cheek,
Heart to my Heart.