Time for a Poem 1. Mindful, by Mary Oliver

Everyday 
    I see or hear
       something
          that more or less

kills me
    with delight,
       that leaves me
          like a needle

in the haystack
    of light.
       It was what I was born for —
          to look, to listen,

to lose myself
    inside this soft world —
       to instruct myself
          over and over

in joy,
    and acclamation.
       Nor am I talking
          about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful,
    the very extravagant —
       but of the ordinary,
          the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations.
    Oh, good scholar,
       I say to myself,
          how can you help

but grow wise
    with such teachings
       as these —
          the untrimmable light

of the world,
    the ocean’s shine,
       the prayers that are made
          out of grass?

The photo was taken in Glen Dye, on a June day, when it was hard not to be mindful of the beauty, fragility and sheer isness of life.