Crows

In Japan, in Seattle, In Indonesia--there they were--
      each one loud and hungry,
      crossing a field, or sitting
      above the traffic, or dropping

   to the lawn of some temple to sun itself
      or walk about on strong legs,
      like a landlord. I think
      they don't envy anybody or anything--

      not the tiger, not the emperor,
      not even the philosopher
      Why should they?
The wind is their friend, the least tree is home.

Nor is melody, they have discovered, necessary.
      Nor have they delicate palates;
      without hesitation they will eat anything you can think of--

      corn, mice, old hamburgers--
      swallowing with such hollering and gust
      no one can tell whether it's a brag
or a prayer of deepest thanks. At sunrise when I walk out,

      I see them in trees, or on the ledges of buildings,
      as cheerful as saints, or thieves of the small job
     who have been , one more night, successful--
and like all successes, it turns my thoughts to myself.

      Should I have led a more simple life?
      Have my ambitions been worthy?
Has the wind, for years, been talking to me as well?
Somewhere, among all my thoughts, there is a narrow path.

     It's attractive, but who could follow it?
      Slowly the full morning
draws over us its mysterious lovely equation
Then, in the branches poling from their dark center,

      ever more flexible and bright,
sparks from the sun are bursting and melting on the bird's wings,
      as indifferent and comfortable,
      they lounge, they squabble in the vast, rose colored light.

---Mary Oliver


That says it all for me today...a day filled with small victories, small problems and no disasters. I am grateful.