What poem fill you with wonder?
Inviting all you lovely readers to share your wonder-ful poem with me/each other. I’ll go first.
Where Does the Temple Begin, Where Does It End? by Mary Oliver
There are things you can’t reach. Butyou can reach out to them, and all day long.
The wind, the bird flying away. The idea of God.
And it can keep you as busy as anything else, and happier.
The snake slides away; the fish jumps, like a little lily,out of the water and back in; the goldfinches singfrom the unreachable top of the tree.
I look; morning to night I am never done with looking.
Looking I mean not just standing around, but standing aroundas though with your arms open.
And thinking: maybe something will come, someshining coil of wind,or a few leaves from any old tree–they are all in this too.
And now I will tell you the truth.Everything in the worldcomes.
At least, closer.
And, cordially.
Like the nibbling, tinsel-eyed fish; the unlooping snake.Like goldfinches, little dolls of goldfluttering around the corner of the sky
of God, the blue air.
Joy does not arrive with a fanfare
on a red carpet strewn
with the flowers of a perfect life
joy sneaks in
as you pour a cup of coffee
watching the sunlight
hit your favourite tree, just right
and you usher joy away
because you are not ready for her
your house is not as it should be
for such a distinguished guest
but joy cares nothing for your messy home
or your bank-balance, or your waistline, you see
joy is supposed to slither through
the cracks of your imperfect life
that’s how joy works
you cannot truly invite her
you can only be ready when she appears
and hug her with meaning
because in this very moment
joy chose you”
Donna Ashworth
Joy does not arrive with a fanfare
on a red carpet strewn
with the flowers of a perfect life
joy sneaks in
as you pour a cup of coffee
watching the sunlight
hit your favourite tree, just right
and you usher joy away
because you are not ready for her
your house is not as it should be
for such a distinguished guest
but joy cares nothing for your messy home
or your bank-balance, or your waistline, you see
joy is supposed to slither through
the cracks of your imperfect life
that’s how joy works
you cannot truly invite her
you can only be ready when she appears
and hug her with meaning
because in this very moment
joy chose you”
Donna Ashworth