A Breath of Fresh Air

WHAT CAN I SAY? by Mary Oliver from Swan: Poems and Prose Poems (Beacon Press)

Cong Forest, Ireland

What can I say that I have not said before?
So I'll say it again.
The leaf has a song in it.
Stone is the face of patience.
Inside the river there is an unfinished story
  and you are somewhere in it
and it will never end until it all ends.

Take your busy heart to the art museum and the
  chamber of commerce
but take it also to the forest.
The song you heard singing in the leaf when you
  were a child
is singing still. 
I am of years lived, so far, seventy-four,
and the leaf is still singing.

Another reminder about seeking out the wisdom of old holy teachers from Mary Oliver this morning.

Later this afternoon I will heed the siren song of the leaves and take a walk in Rock Creek Park, perhaps not into the forest but at least beside it.  There's something about walking among trees that cleanses my soul.  It dislodges the little bits of dirt that cling to my consciousness, like dried mud on a shoe.  I end up discarding the clumps and clods, almost imperceptibly, along the path. 

I could try to dig these out on my own, but it's so much easier and much less messier to get outside-- of my house and out of my head-- into a wide open space where I can let things go and just focus on listening to the leaves singing.