I'm Having such a wonderful time
playing with felt right now.It just feels so warm and sweet.I created two little books going up tonight on Ebay.The first "With a thankful Heart", and the second "One" Inspired by the Mary Oliver Poem.
"One" by Mary Oliver
The mosquito is so small it takes almost nothing to ruin it.Each leaf, the same.
And the black ant, hurrying.So many lives, so many fortunes!
Every morning, I walk softly and with forward glances
down to the ponds and through the pinewoods.
Mushrooms, even, have but a brief hour before
the slug creeps to the feast,before the pine needles hustle down under
the bundles of harsh, beneficent rain.How many, how many, how many
make up a world! And then I think of that old idea: the singular and the eternal.
One cup, in which everything is swirled back to the color of the
sea and sky. Imagine it! A shining cup, surely! In the moment in
which there is no wind over your shoulder, you stare down into it,
and there you are, your own darling face, your own eyes.And then the
wind, not thinking of you, just passes by, touching the ant, the mosquito,
the leaf, and you know what else! How blue is the sea, how blue is the
sky, how blue and tiny and redeemable everything is, even you,even your
eyes, even your imagination.
playing with felt right now.It just feels so warm and sweet.I created two little books going up tonight on Ebay.The first "With a thankful Heart", and the second "One" Inspired by the Mary Oliver Poem.
"One" by Mary Oliver
The mosquito is so small it takes almost nothing to ruin it.Each leaf, the same.
And the black ant, hurrying.So many lives, so many fortunes!
Every morning, I walk softly and with forward glances
down to the ponds and through the pinewoods.
Mushrooms, even, have but a brief hour before
the slug creeps to the feast,before the pine needles hustle down under
the bundles of harsh, beneficent rain.How many, how many, how many
make up a world! And then I think of that old idea: the singular and the eternal.
One cup, in which everything is swirled back to the color of the
sea and sky. Imagine it! A shining cup, surely! In the moment in
which there is no wind over your shoulder, you stare down into it,
and there you are, your own darling face, your own eyes.And then the
wind, not thinking of you, just passes by, touching the ant, the mosquito,
the leaf, and you know what else! How blue is the sea, how blue is the
sky, how blue and tiny and redeemable everything is, even you,even your
eyes, even your imagination.
Comments
Brenda
Cathy
Thanks for stopping by:)
Tracy