Softest of Mornings by Mary Oliver Softest of mornings, hello. And what will you do today, I wonder, to my heart? And how much honey can the heart stand, I wonder, before it must break? This is trivial, or nothing: a snail climbing a trellis of leaves and the blue trumpet of its flowers. No doubt clocks are ticking loudly all over the world. I don’t hear them. The snail’s pale horns extend and wave this way and that as her finger-body shuffles forward, leaving behind the silvery path of her slime, Oh, softest of mornings, how shall I break this? How shall I move away from the snail, and the flowers? How shall I go on, with my introspective and ambitious life? |
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AuthorMy name is Deborah Globus and I am La Padre. With me you'll find the support you need to uncover practical, do-able spiritual practices that work for you. I offer new perspectives on old practices like journaling and ritual, with a side of compassion and a healthy dose of humor, just to keep it down-to-earth and real! Categories
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