posting out of turn, like the rebel i am.

~i know that we have people assigned to days, but sometimes it's hard to post on that day, and we get that, so i am just posting and hoping that it's cool because we are all in this together... and you get it. and thank you. ~

hi loves, i'm feeling all sorts of weird, honestly. i don't know exactly what else to say. 
this poem is part of where i am.... 
missing you all, 
e

Reckless Poem
Mary Oliver

Today again I am hardly myself.
It happens over and over.
It is heaven-sent.

It flows through me
like the blue wave.
Green leaves — you may believe this or not —
have once or twice
emerged from the tips of my fingers

somewhere
deep in the woods,
in the reckless seizure of spring.

Though, of course, I also know that other song,
the sweet passion of one-ness.

Just yesterday I watched an ant crossing a path, through the
         tumbled pine needles she toiled.
And I thought: she will never live another life but this one.
And I thought: if she lives her life with all her strength
         is she not wonderful and wise?
And I continued this up the miraculous pyramid of everything
         until I came to myself.

And still, even in these northern woods, on these hills of sand,
I have flown from the other window of myself
to become white heron, blue whale,
         red fox, hedgehog.
Oh, sometimes already my body has felt like the body of a flower!
Sometimes already my heart is a red parrot, perched
among strange, dark trees, flapping and screaming.