Wednesday, June 11, 2014

everything glorious is around us already

“When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world.” 

- John Muir

All That Is Glorious Around Us

by Barbara Crooker

is not, for me, these grand vistas, sublime peaks, mist-filled
overlooks, towering clouds, but doing errands on a day
of driving rain, staying dry inside the silver skin of the car,
160,000 miles, still running just fine. Or later,
sitting in a café warmed by the steam
from white chicken chili, two cups of dark coffee,
watching the red and gold leaves race down the street,
confetti from autumn's bright parade. And I think
of how my mother struggles to breathe, how few good days
she has now, how we never think about the glories
of breath, oxygen cascading down our throats to the lungs,
simple as the journey of water over a rock. It is the nature
of stone / to be satisfied / writes Mary Oliver, It is the nature
of water / to want to be somewhere else, rushing down
a rocky tor or high escarpment, the panoramic landscape
boundless behind it. But everything glorious is around
us already: black and blue graffiti shining in the rain's
bright glaze, the small rainbows of oil on the pavement,
where the last car to park has left its mark on the glistening
street, this radiant world.

{from Barbara Crooker's book, Radiance}

How easy it is to forget this. I seem to need reminding of this several times a day. The world is glorious, the world is radiant. And let us not forget the glories of breath, that miracle.


The silent conversation that goes on in my backyard. (Above).

The soaring:

The kitsch:

The rain has been off and on for days. We are rewarded with the occasional rainbow.


  1. What a great poem though I enjoyed the silent poetry here, too. Thanks so much for sharing.

  2. this post is wonderful.
    beginning to end...

  3. We all need to be reminded. Thanks for this.


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