Summer Poem 

Leaving the house

 I went to see   

the frog, for example,

in her shining green skin;

and her eggs

like a slippery veil;

and her eyes

with their golden rims;

and the pond

with its risen lilies;

and its warmed shores

dotted with pink flowers;

and the long, windless afternoon;

and the white heron

like a dropped cloud,

taking one slow step

then standing awhile then taking

another, writing

her own soft-footed poem

through the still waters.

~ Mary Oliver ~

Still, what I want in my life is to be willing to be dazzled…to cast aside the weight of facts and maybe even to float a little above this difficult world.

 ~ Mary Oliver ~