Poem for Wednesday and Marymoor Herons

Reckless Poem
By Mary Oliver

Today again I am hardly myself.
It happens over and over.
It is heaven-sent.

It flows through me
like the blue wave.
Green leaves – you may believe this or not –
have once or twice
emerged from the tips of my fingers

somewhere
deep in the woods,
in the reckless seizure of spring.

Though, of course, I also know that other song,
the sweet passion of one-ness.

Just yesterday I watched an ant crossing a path, through the
tumbled pine needles she toiled.
And I thought: she will never live another life but this one.
And I thought: if she lives her life with all her strength
is she not wonderful and wise?
And I continued this up the miraculous pyramid of everything
until I came to myself.

And still, even in these northern woods, on these hills of sand,
I have flown from the other window of myself
to become white heron, blue whale,
red fox, hedgehog.

Oh, sometimes already my body has felt like the body of a flower!
Sometimes already my heart is a red parrot, perched
among strange, dark trees, flapping and screaming.

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I had a nice Wednesday starting with talking to two of my high school friends -- that used to be a lunchtime activity, but now it's 10 a.m. so I was eating a bagel instead. Then I spent the afternoon sorting books in the second bedroom, trying to figure out whether we brought things from the basement we meant to put in storage and whether we put in storage things we intended to keep here on shelves. We can finally mostly see the floor under the boxes. 

Again we took an afternoon walk to Idylwood Beach in the afternoon, then came back here so I could dye my hair (it had been nearly two months) and Paul could go to Staples for printer cartridges for license applications. The Masked Singer season finale was in the evening and I completely agreed with the judges, it was a lovely discovery! Now we're finishing The Diplomat and there had better be another season. Great blue herons nesting at Marymoor: