Another Poem for the Christmas Season: Where Does the Temple Begin

Where Does the Temple Begin, Where Does It End?
Mary Oliver

There are things you can't reach. But
you can reach out to them, and all day long.

The wind, the bird flying away. The idea of God.

And it can keep you busy as anything else, and happier.

The snake slides away; the fish jumps, like a little lily,
out of the water and back in; the goldfinches sing
     from the unreachable top of the tree.

I look; morning to night I am never done with looking.

Looking I mean not just standing around, but standing around
     as though with your arms open.

And thinking: maybe something will come, some
     shining coil of wind,
     or a few leaves from any old tree --
          they are all in this too.

And now I will tell you the truth.
Everything in the world
comes.

At least, closer.

And, ordially.

Like the nibbling, tinsel-eyed fish; the unlooping snake.
Like goldfinches, little dolls of gold
fluttering around the corner of the sky

of God, the blue air.



[Oliver, Mary. Why I Wake Early. Beacon Press, 2004. 8]