Easy Like Sunday morning

This morning at church this poem was read. Chris Woodhull was preaching and he said Thirst and Mary Oliver and I leaned waaaaaayyy forward ready to listen. And in listening, to walk into this poem and right into the woods and be among the trees and this poetic voice that I recognize and is so comforting and always clear and familiar to me.

Saint Mary Oliver, patron saint of poetry and simplicity.

When I Am Among the Trees

When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness,
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, "Stay awhile."
The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, "It's simple," they say,"and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine."

~ Mary Oliver ~

(Thirst)

Mary Oliver and I just had church together in the woods. I got home and my roommate is baking cheesecake in the kitchen. And she has flour on her face and and she's on her tip-toes pressing the crust into the pan with her hands. "Sweetened Condensed Milk does the body good ... There's just not that many things I like more than graham cracker crust". She loves Mary Oliver about as much as she loves baking which is about as much as I love Mary Oliver. That is a hell of a lot of love for one kitchen. I find the poem in the book on the table in the living room beside the window, where all my poetry lives and stand there and leaned against the door frame of the kitchen and read it to her. And the music that is playing a slow bluegrass "Come thou Fount". I read the poem slowly, like trees growing slowly, it's raining outside, slowly, and we're standing in the kitchen reading poetry. It's so damn good. and so simple. And I couldn't tell the difference between being in the kitchen with the crust and the flour or being in a church or being among the trees. I got done and held the book over my face and screamed. Her poems are just that good to me. As good as graham cracker crust. "I would almost say that they save me. and daily."