The Bluebird Sang A bluebird slipped a little tremble out of the triangle of his mouth And it hung in the air until it reached my ear Like a froth or a frill that Schumann Might have written in a dream. Dear morning you come with so many angels of mercy So wondrously disguised in feathers, in leaves, In the tongues of stones, in the restless waters, In the creep and the click and the rustle That greet me wherever I go With their joyful cry: I’m still here, alive! Poem by Mary OliverREFLECTION:When was the last time you heard a bird sing?When was the last time you enjoyed the peacefulness and contentment of nature?Take a walk in nature today!Come alive.