mindful ~ by mary oliver

Every day
   I see or I hear
      something
         that more or less

kills me
   with delight,
      that leaves me
         like a needle

in the haystack
   of light.
      It is what I was born for--
         to look, to listen,

to lose myself
   inside this soft world--
      to instruct myself
         over and over

in joy,
   and acclamation.
      Nor am I talking
         about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful,
   the very extravagant--
      but of the ordinary,
         the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations.
   Oh, good scholar,
      I say to myself,
         how can you help

but grow wise
   with such teachings
      as these---
         the untrimmable light

of the world,
   the ocean's shine,
      the prayers that are made
         out of grass?