Poetry Friday
Today I’m flying low and I’m
not saying a word.
I’m letting all the voodoos of ambition sleep.
The world goes on as it must,
the bees in the garden rumbling a little,
the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten.
And so forth.
But I’m taking the day off.
Quiet as a feather.
I hardly move though really I’m traveling
a terrific distance.
Stillness. One of the doors
into the temple.
Mary Oliver
Spot on. Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This poem expresses where I’m at exactly.
LikeLiked by 1 person
How wonderful to hear this is where you are at Eileen! I am not quite there, but I would love to be x
LikeLike