Song of the Builders by Mary Oliver

On a summer morning I sat down on a hillside to think about God –

 a worthy pastime. Near me, I saw a single cricket; it was moving the grains of the hillside 

this way and that way. How great was its energy, how humble its effort. Let us hope 

 it will always be like this, each of us going on in our inexplicable ways building the universe.

Oh to sit on a hillside and think about god. Only 110 wish days til summer and you bet I will sit on a hill notice the crickets and locusts and every minuscule thing going on with their day. writing about poetry is weird, its hard to tell someone its meaning, its like describing color to someone who’s colorblind.