• bees,  flowers,  insects,  Mary Oliver,  Plants,  poems,  prayer

    My Way of Praying

    The pink rose displayings beauty and accepting a very tiny visitor

    How I go to the woods

    Ordinarily, I go to the woods alone, with not a single
    friend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore
    unsuitable.

    I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds
    or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my way of
    praying, as you no doubt have yours.

    Besides, when I am alone I can become invisible. I can sit
    on the top of a dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds,
    until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can hear the almost
    unhearable sound of the roses singing.

    If you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love
    you very much.” 

    Mary Oliver