Another Everyday Poem by Mary Oliver
Every day
I consider
the lilies--
how they are dressed--
and the ravens--
how they are fed--
and how each of these
is a miracle
of Lord-love
and of sorrow--
for the lilies
in their bright dresses
cannot last
but wrinkle fast
and fall,
and the little ravens
in their windy nest
rise up
in the pleasure
at the sight
of fresh meat
that makes their lives sweet--
and what a puzzle it is
that such brevity--
the lavish clothes
the ruddy food--
makes the world
so full, so good
Today's church service was started with this poem by Mary Oliver. I marvel at the Earth and how everything depends upon each other. We were asked to remember what our work is in this world, to remember what song we carry.
Although I realize Memorial Day is a day to remember those lost in war, I also remember those who have passed that had nothing to do with war, whom were nothing but kind, gentle and peaceful like the lilies in the field. My neighbor growing up was like a grandmother to me. She always had lilies in her front yard. When she moved to a nursing home, I would cut her lilies and bring them to her. She would light up and appreciate that they were her lilies.
On my walk today, I searched for lilies. Many of them looked like indeed the ravens or other creatures had enjoyed their sweetness. Finally I saw a patch of lilies in their "lavish clothes." I couldn't help but stop, grab my phone, and take a picture.
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