When I Am Among the Trees by Mary Oliver
When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.
I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, "Stay awhile."
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, "It's simple," they say,
"and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine."
I have been feeling overworked, hot, and depressed over the lack of art sales. Wanting so much to be able to quit work and paint, my poor body can't do this work too much longer. Least you think I should be patient, I have been painting since I was 18 (really 8), and I think 39 years is enough patience. I have not been feeling easy or shiny.
However, I did not call you here to whine or tell you my problems, I called you here because when I read this poem this morning it helped. It lifed my spirits and I thought it might do the same for you :-). XOXO