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 Oliver
REFLECTION:
- 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.