gratitude

i'm thinking of two main works today.  psalm 100 and a poem by mary oliver.  her poem is called "the place i want to get back to"...

...is where in the pinewoods in the moments between the darkness and first light
two deer came walking down the hill and when they saw me they said to each other,
okay, this one's okay, let's see who she is and why she is sitting on the ground,
like that, so quiet, as if asleep, or in a dream, but, anyway, harmless;
and so they came on their slender legs and gazed upon me not unlike the way
i go out to the dunes and look and look and look into the faces of flowers;
and then one of them leaned forward and nuzzled my hand, and what can my life
bring to me that could exceed that brief moment?
for twenty years i have gone every day to the same woods,
not waiting, exactly, just lingering.
such gifts, bestowed, can't be repeated.
if you want to talk about this come to visit.
i live in the house near the corner, which i have named
Gratitude.