Day 513: Living Like a Mystic

There are prophets everywhere - trees, like the poet notices here. And signs and stars  for mystics to read, mystics like star-gazers, wanderers, wonderers, wishers, dreamers, and poets of course. 

 

I'm Going to Start Living Like a Mystic- Edward Hirsch

Today I am pulling on a green wool sweater
and walking across the park in a dusky snowfall.

The trees stand like twenty-seven prophets in a field,
each a station in a pilgrimage - silent, pondering.

Blue flakes of light falling across their bodies
are the ciphers of a secret, an occultation.

I will examine their leaves as pages in a text
and consider the bookish pigeons, students of winter.

I will kneel on the track of a vanquished squirrel
and stare into a blank pond for the figure of Sophia.

I shall begin scouring the sky for signs
as if my whole future were constellated upon it.

I will walk home alone with the deep alone,
a disciple of shadows, in praise of the mysteries.