Every day I see or hear something that more or less kills me with delight, that leaves me like a needle in the haystack of light.
I made this post backwards today. I started with photos that I took while walking Preston and I looked around to see if there was a poem to go with them. Mary Oliver came through.
Mysteries, Four of the Simple Ones
by Mary Oliver
How does the seed-grain feel
when it is just beginning to be wheat?
And how does the catbird feel
when the blue eggs break and become little catbirds?
Maybe on midsummer night’s eve,
and without fanfare?
And how does the turtle feel as she covers her eggs
with the sweep of her feet,
then leaves them for the world to take care of?
Does she know her accomplishment?
And when the blue heron, breaking his long breast feathers,
sees one feather fall, does he know I will find it?
read the rest here
I've only heard this once, walking around the pond at night, and it was incredibly startling to hear in the dark:
P.S. When I play this video, Preston thinks someone is barking and he gets all bark-y himself.
Reading to the Core has the Poetry Friday round-up. Thanks, Catherine!