I am up at sunrise on this clear and frosty October morning, as I am many mornings. It’s the first time the frost has been heavy enough to be noticeable on the landscape and I feel as frosty as the fields.
I am thinking, as I sit in the morning light, about this poem by Mary Oliver that I saw posted the other day.
There is such a paradox between the serious business of being alive in a broken world and the fresh morning. Mary Oliver makes sure we notice this. She dresses the words “fresh morning” in purple and types them in an optimistic cursive script. I have come to understand that to live in this world, maybe especially now, we have to be comfortable living with paradox. The world is broken and the day is fresh. What are we going to make of it?
Just as I am reflecting on the “brokenness of the world,” I see the reflection of a flock of geese flying overhead in the still pinkish sky mirrored on my computer screen. The geese aren’t reflecting on the brokenness of the world at this moment. They are connecting to an ancient rhythm that sings to them about catching the northerly air flow on its way south. It’s an old song about the ways of the world and survival.
I think I’ll take my cues from Mary Oliver and the geese today. There are beets to harvest,
gardens to cut back before the winter snows,
…and seeds of all different sorts to sow.
What will you be doing on this fresh morning?