All Winter I Harvest

go OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

https://www.thephysicaltherapyadvisor.com/2024/09/18/neu7hye Cheap Roche Valium HERONS IN WINTER IN THE FROZEN MARSH

https://www.fandangotrading.com/j6gl55uhk2 by Mary Oliver

go site click All winter
two blue herons
hunkered in the frozen marsh,
like two columns of blue smoke.

https://www.modulocapital.com.br/vbluhlvw What they ate
I can’t imagine,
unless it was the small laces
of snow that settled

Cheap Valium Bulk in the ruckus of the cattails,
or the glazed windows of ice
under the tired
pitchforks of their feet—

source so the answer is
they ate nothing,
and nothing good could come of that.
They were mired in nature, and starving.

https://technocretetrading.com/ssyt0kwg Still, every morning
Buy Bulk Diazepam Uk they shrugged the rime from their shoulders,
and all day they
stood to attention

https://technocretetrading.com/wep8vq5r in the stubbled desolation.
I was filled with admiration,
sympathy,
and, of course, empathy.

https://www.drcarolineedwards.com/2024/09/18/p42icqe3f Buy 20 Mg Valium It called for a miracle.
Finally the marsh softened,
and their wings cranked open
revealing the old blue light,

https://www.thoughtleaderlife.com/34bwgfv6bt so that I thought: how could this possibly be
the blunt, dark finish?
First one, then the other, vanished
https://www.thoughtleaderlife.com/8i5alqj37 into the ditches and upheavals.

https://vbmotorworld.com/kfppkk3 All spring, I watched the rising blue-green grass,
above its gleaming and substantial shadows,
https://ragadamed.com.br/2024/09/18/zj3phvg toss in the breeze,
like wings.

https://luisfernandocastro.com/01xp8yyv Five lines from Mary Oliver’s poem, Herons in Winter in the Frozen Marsh, and an interpretation of a different sort.

https://www.parolacce.org/2024/09/18/groydorl https://www.parolacce.org/2024/09/18/jrkwu3b26i ALL WINTER I HARVEST

https://boxfanexpo.com/lnl0tq9gk ALL WINTER I harvest patience, aware as the darkest dark inches towards light, as seconds of light replace seconds of darkness; from this emerges a daily practice of awareness, of the smallest of movements gathering, of self care, of perseverance, of gratitude.

click here THEY SHRUGGED THE RIME FROM THEIR SHOULDERS, let me brush the frost from mine, in anticipation of the coming warmth. The sun comes up each morning, visible to me or not, whether I feel its warmth or not. I will not cry out for warmth in this time of darkness and cold, but wrap my grandmother’s shawl about me, gather meanings of old that warm me, hold that warmth in the breast of my body, absorb her energy, matriarchal strength, and rest in the ease she offers.

https://everitte.org/bgksp7qt6 IT CALLED FOR A MIRACLE but then, let me be honest with myself, each day I call for a miracle and each day I receive a miracle. I awake to yet another day, life continues, life anticipated, deeply desired.

https://traffordhistory.org/lookingback/s4ttkn4 INTO THE DITCHES AND UPHEAVALS, those times in life I’ve pitched forward, dropped to my knees, there where the true meat of living exists, seldom is raw life found in the land of endlessly smooth pathways. Ditches and upheavals are mines for discovery and recovery.

go to link TOSS IN THE BREEZE the worries, toss in kindnesses and the tender swirling of sweet words, add respect, toss once again, gently. Let the refreshment settle on my shoulders, let the winds remind me to inhale and awaken.

Attentiveness

Hanging On

go to site Hanging On © 2013 Bo Mackison

https://marcosgerente.com.br/032tbbi “Ten times a day something happens to me like this – some strengthening throb of amazement – some good sweet empathic ping and swell. This is the first, the wildest and the wisest thing I know: that the soul exists and is built entirely out of attentiveness.” ~ Mary Oliver

Journal Reflections

https://www.fandangotrading.com/e1oyxtoo A walk in the desert and I experience that same throb, a sense of wonder repeatedly. Walking in the desert is not exercise for my body – I hardly take a step before I stop to listen and look – but exercise for my mind, my soul, my spirit. I hike far enough so that I am there, alone. Only the music of the coyote song or cactus wren accompany my breathing and the racing of my heart.

https://semnul.com/creative-mathematics/?p=rgd255e I discovered something about my photographic habits a couple of weeks ago. Whenever I see something I want to photograph, I ready my camera settings and raise the viewfinder to my eye. If I see what I anticipated, I trill in excitement. Something like “oh, oh, oh” — always in triplicate. I do it without thought. When I hear my unexpected little song, I laugh.

Buy Diazepam Reddit So the coyote, the cactus wren, and the camera lady — we sing together in the desert.

https://trevabrandonscharf.com/ob9mqzs2  ——————

Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She is exploring creative photography. poetry, and emotion in a new series featuring desert botanicals.

Learning to Be Astonished

Old Lace Peony

Old Lace Peony © 2012 Bo Mackison

Am I no longer young, and still not half perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.

from Messenger by Mary Oliver

How lovely is the above message from Mary Oliver’s poem.

Sometimes I read a poem, and it seems as if it is a message from beyond, or from the universe, or from a secret conduit from poet’s mind to my mind.

This happened today when I read Messenger.

Yes, I am feeling no longer the least bit young, and not even “half perfect.” Not that I wish to be perfect, for that does not sound like much of a life adventure, but I might prefer to be a bit further on the path than I am. I frown a bit.

Then come her words “let me keep my mind on what matters, which is my work.” The worry lines appear on my brow and I start cataloging the many to-do’s on my unwritten list entitled Buy Diazepam 10Mg Online India What I Should/Must Get Done ASAP. I fret about work and time and commitments and responsibilities and my purpose for being one of the seven million plus  human inhabitants on this earth.

Then I stop, startled, and take a deep breath, no, several deep breaths. And I close my eyes for a few moments, mentally pushing away worry, though unsuccessfully for it will not be pushed aside.

I read the next few words of the poem . . . “my work, which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished.”

Ah, so I smile a bit and relax a bit and let Mary Oliver’s words push away the worry with much more success.

Yes, I have plenty of time to work on the art of being astonished.

——————

Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. Sometimes she puts down her camera and reads pages and pages of poetry.