I’m a collector of words. A turn of a phrase, a grouping of words, a well-crafted story . . . they speak to me. Yet, sometimes, I’m so distraught , I can’t find my words. My prayers are but groans. I have to be reminded or invited to drink from the well that never runs dry. (John 4:13-14)

“Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”


Has your well run dry?

Oh do you have time
To linger
For just a little while
Out of your busy
And very important day
For the goldfinches
That have gathered
In a field of thistles
For a musical battle,
To see who can sing
The highest note,
Or the lowest,
Or the most expressive of mirth,
Or the most tender?
Their strong, blunt beaks
Drink the air
As they strive
Not for your sake
And not for mine
And not for the sake of winning
But for sheer delight and gratitude –
Believe us, they say,
It is a serious thing
Just to be alive
On this fresh morning
In the broken world.
I beg of you
Do not walk by without passing
To attend to this
Rather ridiculous performance.
It could mean something.
It could mean everything.
It could be what Rilke meant, when he wrote:
You must change your life.

Invitation, by Mary Oliver

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