Moonbird Pottery

Almost Spring......

It has been quite a Winter this year In North Carolina.  It seemed Winter kept hanging on. Even through the month of March She kept hold even if just with Her fingertips, unwilling to let go.  But now Spring is stepping forward.  She has been waiting, patiently, as She always does, not in a hurry, not worried about being noticed or praised.  Patiently waiting.  The beauty is that we have also been waiting for Her too.  Waiting for the sun on our skin the visible re-birth of trees and and flowers emerging from their underground resting places.  The beauty is before our eyes but I feel it in the air too.  I breathe it in filling my lungs with hope and the expectation of good things to come... and like Spring I will patiently await the

moment of their coming.  

I love Mary Oliver and I think she says it best in this poem.  

The connection to nature, the gift of our lives, the beauty, and the magic of it all.  

Happy Spring Everyone!

Such Singing in the Wild Branches

It was spring
and I finally heard him
among the first leaves––
then I saw him clutching the limb

in an island of shade
with his red-brown feathers
all trim and neat for the new year.

First, I stood still

and thought of nothing.
Then I began to listen.
Then I was filled with gladness––
and that’s when it happened,

when I seemed to float,
to be, myself, a wing or a tree––
and I began to understand
what the bird was saying,

and the sands in the glass
stopped
for a pure white moment
while gravity sprinkled upward

like rain, rising,
and in fact
it became difficult to tell just what it was that was singing––
it was the thrush for sure, but it seemed

not a single thrush, but himself, and all his brothers,
and also the trees around them,
as well as the gliding, long-tailed clouds
in the perfect blue sky–––all of them

were singing.
And, of course, so it seemed,
so was I.
Such soft and solemn and perfect music doesn’t last

For more than a few moments.
It’s one of those magical places wise people
like to talk about.
One of the things they say about it, that is true,

is that, once you’ve been there,
you’re there forever.
Listen, everyone has a chance.
Is it spring, is it morning?

Are there trees near you,
and does your own soul need comforting?
Quick, then––open the door and fly on your heavy feet; the song
may already be drifting away.

-Mary Oliver