all those leaves breathing the air

It has been a quietly lovely day. I was able to work from home, a rare treat. I set myself up at my desk in the spare room, put a hot water bottle under my feet and bought the beautiful pure white azalea my step daughter sent me for Christmas upstairs and put it in front of the window to keep me company. I stopped to have roasted cauliflower soup with turmeric, ginger and toasted pumpkin seeds and drowned in soy sauce (not that I’m desperate or anything).

I was so sad to read of Mary Oliver’s death on Veronica’s blip for today. I was given a volume of her poems on my wedding day by a dear friend and her poetry has been a real presence in my heart ever since.

About Angels and About Trees - Mary Oliver

Where do angels
fly in the firmament,
and how many can dance
on the head of a pin?

Well, I don’t care
about that pin dance,
what I know is that
they rest, sometimes,
in the tops of the trees

and you can see them,
or almost see them,
or, anyway, think: what a
wonderful idea.

I have lost as you and
others have possibly lost a
beloved one,
and wonder, where are they now?

The trees, anyway, are
miraculous, full of
angels (ideas); even
empty they are a
good place to look, to put
the heart at rest—all those
leaves breathing the air, so

peaceful and diligent, and certainly
ready to be
the resting place of
strange, winged creatures
that we, in this world, have loved.