The weather here this week has been stunning – cold, sunny, with the clearest quality of light.
Stepping out to scrape the ice from my car on Monday morning, the sun was streaming into the garden, warm enough you’d want nothing but to stand and turn your face to it, the ground white beneath your feet.
Wednesday evening, coming home after work with my head full of papers and files and the paraphernalia of office life, there are goldfinches at the feeder, the first time since we’ve been here. The birds are rotating, as if in a dance, greenfinches, goldfinches, a thrush, then again, the greenfinches then the goldfinches, and their colour takes my breath away, they fill my heart with wonder, and I can’t stop watching them, how everything in a moment can be so much lighter.
Just lying on the couch and being happy.
Only humming a little, the quiet sound in the head.
Trouble is busy elsewhere at the moment, it has
so much to do in the world.
People who might judge are mostly asleep; they can’t
monitor you all the time, and sometimes they forget.
When dawn flows over the hedge you can
get up and act busy.
Little corners like this, pieces of Heaven
left lying around, can be picked up and saved.
People won’t even see that you have them,
they are so light and easy to hide.
Later in the day you can act like the others.
You can shake your head. You can frown.
~ William Stafford
It is the start of the National Poetry Month (in the US and Canada). I’m going to read and share more poetry this month. I mean: I need to, it’s like a drought.