Photo from the last leg of a long (but fast) trip this week. I read several books and a bunch of magazines on the trip, and found this exquisite poem by Mary Oliver (who has always been one of my favorites). I am so glad to be back, my return last night was positively lovely.

Mornings at Blackwater (Mary Oliver)

For years, every morning, I drank
from Blackwater Pond.
It was flavored with oak leaves and also, no doubt,
the feet of ducks.

And always it assuaged me
from the dry bowl of the very far past.

What I want to say is
that the past is the past,
and the present is what your life is,
and you are capable
of choosing what that will be,
darling citizen.

So come to the pond,
or the river of your imagination,
or the harbor of your longing,

and put your lips to the world.
And live
your life.