Sunday Morning

Angels unaware

Angels are wonderful but they are so, well, aloof.
It’s what I sense in the mud and the roots of the
trees, or the well, or the barn, or the rock with
its citron map of lichen that halts my feet and
makes my eyes flare, feeling the presence of some
spirit, some small god, who abides there.

If I were a perfect person, I would be bowing
continuously.
I’m not, though I pause wherever I feel this
holiness, which is why I’m so often late coming
back from wherever I went.

Forgive me.

~ Mary Oliver, “Forgive Me” in Blue Horses


Sources: Poem – Thank you Whiskey River. Photo – Lichen by Mathieu Noël

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Sabbath

 


from FB – Contemplative Monk

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Sabbath rest

 
Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.

Sir J. Lubbock


Sunday Morning Walk (29 sec)

Sabbath — practiced in so many ways!!


Percy James goes for a walk in the park…

I’m Mr. Boombastic say me fantastic…boom…boom.

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