I'm actually a bit on the fence about Mary Oliver. She is a wonderful crafter of words, and her poems about nature can provide a powerful entryway into a deeper level of relating to a very alive, active Universe. But if you stop with her poetry, you haven't quite gotten there yet, and I think too many people do just that -- read one of her pieces, sigh, and say, "Ah, that's so true!" without walking through the door she has opened to continue on a deeper journey that might actually change them.
However, I do like this poem, because it is SUCH an inviting doorway to the act of being present and the habit of joy. And in our culture, even noticing that door, let alone putting one's hand upon its lichen-encrusted knob, is a fairly revolutionary act. It's called "Mindful."
Counselor/Coach, Consultant, Folklorist, High Priestess of Where Things Meet and the Places Between