Celebrate

Picture of Mississippi River from Yesterday's Ride

While I Am Writing a Poem to Celebrate Summer,
the Meadowlark Begins to Sing by Mary Oliver

Sixty-seven years, oh Lord, to look at the clouds,
the trees in deep, moist summer,

daisies and morning glories
opening every morning

their small, ecstatic faces--
Or maybe I should just say

how I wish I had a voice
like the meadowlark's

sweet, clear, and reliably
slurring all day long

from the fencepost, or the long grass
where it lives

in a tiny but adequate grass hut
beside the mullein and the everlasting,

the faint-pink roses
that have never been improved, but come to bud

then open like little soft sighs
under the meadowlark's whistle, its breath-praise,

its thrill-song, its anthem, its thanks its
alleluia. Alleluia, oh Lord.

Another Sunday brings the word celebrate once again. Yesterday's weather was a reason to celebrate. It helped me make the decision to ignore grading and hit the trails with my bike. When I left, it was 54º. February and 54º means one MUST get outside. Unfortunately, it also means the trails are full of puddles and mud. As I was going down the "correct" path of one section and judging those who had gone done the "incorrect" path, I realized I was actually on the wrong lane since I had to navigate a melting ice chunk. As I went through the ice/water mixture, I was certain I was going to crash, but I kept my bike upright. Everyone was on the trails celebrating the warm weather. It was a glorious day.