Isn’t it plain the sheets of moss, except that
they have no tongues, could lecture
all day if they wanted about
spiritual patience? Isn’t it clear
the black oaks along the path are standing
as though they were the most fragile of flowers?
Every morning I walk like this around
the pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart
ever close, I am as good as dead.
Every morning, so far, I’m alive. And now
the crows break off from the rest of the darkness
and burst up into the sky – as though
all night they had thought of what they would like
their lives to be, and imagined
their strong, thick wings.
A poem today by Mary Oliver, as my friend Garrison likes to say. Lovely to think about as spring begins to unveil itself. "If the doors of my heart ever close, I am as good as dead" – I love that line. I am sorry to say I don't have a photo credit for the amazing murmuration of starlings, the photo came to me from a friend and I don't know it's origins.
What an awesome poem! It brought up many images and longings as I remembered the pond on my family’s property in upstate New York – a magical place where imagination and curiosity ran unchecked every day.
Ah, a dose of Mary Oliver is just what we need:
“take as often as needed”
Thanks for this. I hope that the photographer stands up and waves her/his hand at you. They’ll be very pleased at your artful use of the image. It’s stunning.
i love mary…and don’t get me started on the sky whipped by enormous black wings.
fran come on over and link in to postcards from paradise. something i am hoping to be a labyrinth, blog by blog, sharing the art of “seeing”. each stop a place of reflection, beauty, peace.
oh, such a beautiful poem, I adore her words.
I am trying to BE in the moment of winter…but spring is beating her wings strongly in my heart!
x..x
THAT is a stunning photograph! take my breath away, as mary and YOU often dooooooooooooooo.