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I recently decided to invert Mary Oliver’s divinatory poem, “Of the Empire.” With much sadness and utter despair in our world, lets not forget who’s empire we truly live in.
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The weary garden yawnsexhausted bythe lengthy season,determined to finish strong! What pride, what fortitude—the blossoms and bloomsproducing and reproducing— you who satiate both eye and gut. Well done,you beauties!You generous givers of self.
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What a privilege it is to watch you wobble in the wind. Your highest bud unfolding before me. The excitement and anticipation, the wonder and awe, oh, how it never gets old. To feel like a child realizing—for the first time—how remarkable this world we live in truly is. Then I see the busy bees…
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Hard workeryet putting forthseemingly little effort To pushto forceto bring forthHer multitude of blooms From the longest daysof solsticeto the ever shorteningdays of autumn She worksyet hardly workingto bring beauty and joyand a glimpse of utter perfection
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Good morning, Dearest star in the heavensthat burns with eternal glory that makes the sweet birds singand awakens the “day” that plays hide and seekbehind water droplets suspended in the sky that calls attention to the heliotrope(the sunflower is my favorite)and feeds every plant on the earth with its rays(photosynthesis, an unfathomable necessity) that creates…
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If we sit at the right time or long enough to perceive-all things come to life that is they are already alive-to take notice to see and hear and feel oh how we miss or mistake or take for granted all that truly is if we fail to behold
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The mystery of God’s love that had been hidden through out eternity has no exhaustibility but entered our reality through Jesus; Emmanuel, God among us and for us This Jesus, he healed the lame he gave sight to the blind and with the worst of sinners he would humbly dine He performed miracles and fed…
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wind whipping wildly affecting the leaves of the trees like a crop against a mare’s hind lashing and impeding the beauty and origin of a leaf’s duty: to catch the rays Or wistfully whirling engaging the presence of a sinister benevolence instigating strength and tenacity and grace and, oh, how they dance
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“What if I were to say,”says the daisy to the sun, “that I will not bare my beauty to the world if you do not shine down upon me more often.” So says the sun to the mere daisy,”my already beautiful dear, do you not understand that you would not be speaking to me…
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Shannon Claussen 