This morning (my birthday) I was reading some poetry to my wife today outside under our lovely birch tree in our front yard.  Sitting under this tree have been the launching pad of some of our most stimulating conversations.  With a cup of coffee or glass of wine, an endless line of wonderful friends have sat with us under this colossal tree over the years.  It reminds me of what Eden must have been like.

Anyway, I stumbled upon this next passage, which captured my thoughts about aging and stirred in me a bit of an existential moment.

From the Epilogue of Mary Oliver’s book entitled Thirst.

“…Oh Lord, I was never a quick scholar but sulked and hunched over my books past the hour and the bell; grant me, in your mercy, a little more time. Love for the earth and love for you are having such a long conversation in my heart. Who knows what will finally happen or where I will be sent, yet already I have given a great many things away, expecting to be told to pack nothing, except the prayers which, with this thirst, I am slowly learning.”

Oliver has touched me with her skillful use of words.  I am not sure whether the epilogue speaks to where I am or where I long to be, but I am moved nonetheless.