When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey
equally the beech, the oaks and the
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me,
I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, "Stay awhile."
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, "It's simple," they
"and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to
with light, and to shine."
by Mary Oliver