Messenger

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Messenger
Mary Oliver

My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird—
/ equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
/ keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,
which is mostly standing still and learning to be
/ astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
/ and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
/ to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.