Friday, February 12, 2010

sweet impossible blossom

From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.

From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.

O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.

There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.

- Li-Young Lee


It's not elation, or even happiness exactly. But if one must be exact about it, then there are days when the sun comes in through the windows, music streams out and even though there is nothing in particular to celebrate - no birthdays anniversaries or graduations - it has still been a blessed day, a gift from God.

Life is sweeter in its gentle joys than when feral manic highs overrun the soul. 'specially when you can see, soaring above it all - from the heights of the heavens to the depths of the soul, that God is sovereign.


happy chinese new year!

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