Last year some anonymous good person/friend slipped a hand-written poem in my mailbox at school. No name, no nothing, just this poem by William Stafford written on this lovely paper with plant and flower parts embedded in the paper. I think this poem is relevant.. and wanna say thanks to all and to whoever gave me this poem. I suggest clicking on the photo in addition to reading the copy below.
Air crowds into my cell so considerately
that the jailer forgets this kind of gift
and thinks I'm alone. Such unnoticed largesse
smuggled by day floods over me,
come grass, turns in the road,
a branch or or stone significantly strewn
where it wouldn't need to be.
Such times abide for a pilgrim, who all through
a story or a life may live in grace, that blind
benevolent side of even the fiercest world,
and might ~ even in oppression or neglect ~
not care if it's friend or enemy, caught up
in a dance where no one feels need or fear:
I'm saved in this big world by unforeseen
friends, or times when only a glance
from a passenger beside me, or just the tired
branch of a willow inclining toward earth,
may teach me how to join earth and sky.