The Swan

Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air -
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?
Did you hear it, fluting and whistling
A shrill dark music – like the rain pelting the trees – like a waterfall
Knifing down the black ledges?
And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds -
A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet
Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river?
And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?

- Mary Oliver

Smudge of a sunset
rests above the low, dark hills,
barely after five.

The winds of grace are blowing all the time,
You have only to raise your sail.

Sri Ramakrishna

Lawns layered in gold.
Seagulls, crows - flocking, squawking -
blackbirds line the wires.

Brightest blue of sky,
leaves floating and drifting down -
after last night's freeze.

All the rose bushes,
heedless of tomorrow's freeze,
 profusely blooming!

First, one must get to know oneself. Then, having become familiar with oneself, one can live one’s life more deeply. Living one’s life more deeply is the meaning of dharma.
— Karmapa Ogyen Trinley Dorje