Like Mary

When Woody smiles at me
And says You did that so well, so gently

When my 4-year-old grandson
Offers me a handful of blue sticky gummies

When my 98-year-old mother
Says thank you

When my across-the-street neighbor
Sends me his photograph of the sunrise

When I remember to water the windowsill plants
When I listen to Gregorian chant

Or Tibetan rhythms
Or June Boyce Tillman’s performances

When I bake bread
Or wash dishes

My hands deep in warm soapy water
And my mind about as still as it ever gets

When I write a poem
When I share a poem

Ah, then, like Mary Oliver
I feel quite beautiful

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