Upon hearing the sweet birdsong of spring this morning on my walk I am inspired to share this Mary Oliver poem with you:
I do not know what gorgeous thing the bluebird keep saying,
his voice easing out of his throat, beak, body
into the pink air of early morning.
I like it whatever it is.
Sometimes it seems the only thing in the world that is without dark thoughts.
Sometimes it seems the only thing in the world that is without questions that can’t and probably never will be answered,
the only thing that is entirely content with the pink, then the clear white morning and, gratefully, says so.
Happy Spring! Many blessings!