Another poem by Mary Oliver, about a flower that blooms in Springtime. It is a lovely affirmation of love for life, and the willingness to open and stand firm in one’s own purpose. To share with others,  and to shine.

All my life, so far,
I have loved more than one thing,

including the mossy hooves of dreams, including’
the spongy litter under the tall trees.

In spring, the moccasin flowers
reach for the crackling lick of the sun
and burn down. Sometimes,
in the shadows, I see the hazy eyes,
the lamb-lips

of oblivion, its deep drowse,
and I can imagine a new nothing
in the universe,
the matted leaves splitting
open, revealing the black planks
of the stairs.

But all my life – sofar –
I have loved best how the flowers rise
and open, how

the pink lungs of their bodies
enter the fore of the world
and stand there shining and willing – the one

thing they can do before they shuffle forward into the floor of darkness, they become the trees.