It is spring. I am yearning for the greening of trees, for birdsongs and hillsides bursting with flowers of every kind. But this morning, it is still raining, and the sky still looks ominous. So, today, I will not go out. It will be an unhurried and centered day; time will be my friend. With time, everything changes. Soon, the sky will give up its bitterness, and the great spring clouds will spread cheer, and I will be ready for it. Meanwhile, the house is full of spring flowers, making constant hosannas as I muse. “Yes, I know,” said the great poet Mary Oliver, “God’s silence never breaks, but is that really a problem? There are a thousand voices after all.”
A Thousand Voices
Waking up to find that
yesterday has become yesterday,
water is still water, stones
did not become bread,
hearts are not any kinder,
and the deep aching questions
still ache. Outside
it is raining; not a single bird
is singing on the cherry trees.
But the house is full of
spring flowers and soon
the psalms of the sunflowers
will join their silent hosannas
and the thrushes will rise to sing
their new songs, and under
the great spring sky, will be
the sounds of a thousand voices
whose answer is in the wind.
Suddenly –
there’s so much to consider
in this decidedly ordinary day.