Tag Archives: love

Everything by Mary Oliver

nss_the_moors_5-2016

photo by Jeffery Coolidge

Everything

by Mary Oliver

I want to make poems that say right out, plainly,
what I mean, that don’t go looking for the
laces of elaboration, puffed sleeves. I want to
keep close and use often words like
heavy, heart, joy, soon, and to cherish
the question mark and her bold sister

the dash. I want to write with quiet hands. I
want to write while crossing the fields that are
fresh with daisies and everlasting and the
ordinary grass. I want to make poems while thinking of
the bread of heaven and the
cup of astonishment; let them be

songs in which nothing is neglected,
not a hope, not a promise. I want to make poems
that look into the earth and the heavens
and see the unseeable. I want them to honor
both the heart of faith, and the light of the world;
the gladness that says, without any words, everything.

*From New and Selected Poems: Volume Two by Mary Oliver

 

Life’s Golden Dreams By Emory W Justus

photo of sea on sunrise
Photo by Snapwire on Pexels.com

Life’s Golden Dreams

Life is sweet, so sweet to me, in all it’s golden dreams,
Ah! How I love to revel in it’s soul -inspiring themes,
like a surging mighty river,
Oft to me it seems,
Life is overflowing,
into Chrystal streams.

And so I lift,  my soul God,
In reverential praise, and ask Him in His wondrous love.
To multiply my days.
Not that I would care to live for worldly, selfish gain, but to help to lift mankind
Upon a higher plane.
I often think, when all alone, and in my golden dreams,
That man is but a pendulum
Between the two extremes .
He wanders up and down the land
Is tossed on every sea, his life is but a phantom,
His death a mystery.
Then let us live, in noble deeds, and trust the rest to fate,
Our lives will then
Be holy, our names will then be great.
In golden dreams, yes let us live, in golden dreams of youth, in golden dreams of beauty, in golden dreams of truth.

Emory W Justus

A Winter Morning at Elephant Belly Sanctuary

trees

Waking up every day at Elephant Belly Sanctuary is a miracle.

At dawn, Monroe, my little blonde Doodle, eats her early morning meal while I fill the light blue Le Creuset tea kettle with the ice cold well water and put it on the burner. Five tight scoops of blended coffee fall into the french press and then Monroe and I head out to take care of the ladies.

The Chickenbergs, my family of rescued hens, are always excited to welcome the new day. I open their coop and they come pouring out with their soft baulk baulks and feather shakes. I throw them a scoop of scratch, fill their water and feed, and do a quick check of their feet, combs, and eyes. I love how the all say good morning in their own way.

I head to the garage, fill the gray bucket with four scoops of black sunflower seeds and walk into the back yard. The first view of the heart shaped mountains, the Hudson Highlands, is breathtaking. At this time of year, the trees are bare and the pink sunrise illuminates their vulnerability. They stand strong, naked, and still. Taking a deep breath in, I feel like them- alive and excited- to feel the warmth of the morning sun.

The birds- black capped chickadees, tufted titmice, nuthatches, goldfinches, and downey woodpeckers- meet me on my way to the feeders. And the fat squirrels, hide on the edge of the forest waiting for their morning snack. I say hello with a smile and fill the feeders to the brim.

Before heading back inside, I am certain to check the cairns that mark the memory of our dear bunnies- The Roosevelts- Franklin, Eleanor, and Teddy. Rescued, deeply loved, and lost…I pause…my eyes still stinging with tears- and straighten the balancing stones.

Monroe and I head back inside, pour the boiling water into the press, warm the soy milk, hit the 5 minute timer, and we sit for our morning love session. I pet her, kiss her, love her as she burrows her head into my lap. Her face so soft and smelly. Her blonde curls, wispy and cute. Her bumpy old body tight and little. We kiss and coo and cuddle. Smile and love and lay side by side gazing into each other’s eyes.

The timer beeps and the coffee is ready. Once poured and prepared perfectly, I bring the two cups of liquid love into the bedroom- with my Doodle right behind me. My Love is sleeping soundly with her Chloe- a black and white Shih Tzu- curled around her head like a cat. Warm, still, breathing sweetly, they are one animal resting in a bed of cozy blankets and dreams. I set the coffee on her night stand and whisper “Good Morning My Love, your coffee is ready.”

There is a song we sing in the morning and it goes like this:

“It’s a beautiful day in Cold Spring,

What a wonderful day in Cold Spring,

Gonna love my baby in Cold Spring,

It’s gonna be a wonderful day!”