Thursday Poem - May

May, and among the miles of leafing,

blossoms storm out of the darkness—

windflowers and moccasin flowers

The bees dive into them and I too,

to gather their spiritual honey.

Mute and meek, yet theirs is the deepest

certainty that this existence too—

this sense of well-being, the flourishing
of the physical body—rides near
the hub of the miracle that everything
is a part of, is as good as a poem

or a prayer, can also make luminous
any dark place on earth.

Mary Oliver