May, and among the miles of leafing,
blossoms storm out of the darkness—
windflowers and moccasin flowers. The bees
dive into them and I too, to gather
their spiritual honey. Mute and meek, yet theirs
is the deepest certainty that this existence too—
this sense of well-being, the flourishing
of the physical body—rides
near the hub of the miracle that everything
is a part of, is as good
as a poem or a prayer, can also make
luminous any dark place on earth.
— Mary Oliver, “May”
Thursday evening at Green Lake
with Megan (and most of Seattle that was at Green Lake when the sun came out on Thursday)
Friday morning at Ravenna Park
early morning walk with Brooke
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