Poem: Mary Oliver, Thirst

Of course I have always known you are present in the clouds, 

and the black oak I especially adore, and the wings of birds. 

But you are present too in the body, listening to the body, 

teaching it to live, instead of all that touching, with disembodied joy. 

We do not do this easily. We have lived so long in the heavens of touch, 

and we maintain our mutability, our physicality, 

even as we begin to apprehend the other world. 

Slowly we make our appreciative response. 

Slowly appreciation swells to astonishment. 

and we enter the dialogue of our lives that is beyond all understanding or conclusion. 

It is mystery, It is love of God. It is obedience.