…Then, not for the first or the last time,
I take the deep breath
of happiness, and I think
how unlikely it is
that death is a hole in the ground,
how improbable
that ascension is not possible,
though everything seems so inert, so nailed
back into itself–
the muskrat and his lumpy lodge,
the turtle,
the fallen gate...
And especially it is wonderful
that the summers are long
and the ponds so dark and so many,
and therefore it isn't a miracle
but the common thing,
this decision,
this trailing of the long legs in the water,
this opening up of the heavy body
into a new life: see how the sudden
gray-blue sheets of her wings
strive toward the wind; see how the clasp of nothing
takes her in.
~from Heron Rises From the Dark Summer Pond, by Mary Oliver
5 comments:
Hi Dan,
Lovely post. I haven't read Mary Oliver in a long time. You remind me of how much I appreciate and enjoy her work.
Hope you're doing well!
Lené
Thanks, Lene. It's good to hear from you.
I'm actually a new fan of Oliver's. I hadn't really know her name until a year or so ago. She's great.
Have you read "Little Owl Who Lives in the Orchard"? It's probably my favorite Mary Oliver poem, particularly the last stanza.
A message, reads the label,
from that mysterious conglomerate:
Oblivion and Co.
Nice, Alan. No, I was not familiar with that one.
Thanks.
De nada.
It has surprised me to have seen so many more owls here on the CA coast in just a few months than I ever saw in MI my whole life. Must be the lack of woods here for cover.
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