today

today i’m flying low and i’m

not saying a word.

i’m letting the voodoos of ambition sleep.

the world goes on as it must,

the bees in the garden rumbling a little,

the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten.

but i’m taking the day off. 

quiet as a feather.

i hardly move though really i’m travelling

a terrific distance.

stillness.  one of the doors

into the temple.

-mary oliver