Circles


Recently I babysat the child of one of the children I used to babysit. We had a lovely night together, her and I, sitting in the same house I used to sit in many years ago with her daddy and aunt. She missed her mama but I wore my baby charmer necklace (which is an older version of this) and it worked it's magic. Lots of cuddles, some singing and a walk around the block and I had her eating out of my hand (well, sitting happily on my lap) before too long.
Life doesn't present many opportunities to revisit times past and I am very grateful to have been given this one. It brought to mind one of Mary Oliver's lovely poems -
Circles
In the morning the blue heron is busy
stepping, slowly, around the edge of the
pond. He is tall and shining. His wings, folded
against his body, fit so neatly they
make of him, when he lifts his shoulders and begins to rise
into the air, a great surprise. Also
he carries so light the terrible sword-beak. Then
he is gone over the trees.
I am so happy to be alive in this world
I would like to live forever, but I am
content not to. Seeing what I have seen
has filled me; believing what I believe
has filled me.
The first words of this page are
hardly thought of when the bird
circles back over the trees; it floats down
like an armful of blue flowers, a bundle of light
coming to refresh itself again in the black water, and I think:
maybe it is or it isn't the same bird-maybe it's
the first one's child, or the child of its child.
What I mean is, our deliverance from Time
and the continuance, if we only steward them well,
of earthly things. So maybe it's myself still standing here, or
someone else, like myself hot with the joy of this world, and
filled with praise.

Comments

Monica said…
I've just discovered Mary Oliver and love her poems... Wild Geese is my favourite.

(And I've had a child I used to babysit doing babysitting for me recently... the great circle of life)

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