They're not like peaches or squash.
Plumpness isn't for them. They like
being lean, as if for the narrow path.
The beans themselves sit quietly in-
side their green pods. Instinctively
one picks with care, never tearing
down the fine vine, never not
noticing their crisp bodies, or
feeling their willingness for the pot,
for the fire.
I have thought sometimes that
something---I can't name it---
watches as I walk the rows, accept-
ing the gift of their lives to assist
mine.
I know what you think: this is fool-
ishness. They're only vegetables.
Even the blossoms with which they
begin are small and pale, hardly sig-
nificant. Our hands, or minds, our
feet hold more intelligence. With
this I have no quarrel.
But, what about virtue?
---Mary Oliver, from Why I Wake Early
We find our own soul when we find the soul in things as well.
