RSS Feed

our sunday poem (mary oliver)

Posted on

 There are a lot of words meaning thanks.
Some you can only whisper.
Others you can only sing.
The peewee whistles instead.
The snake turns in circles,
the beaver slaps its tail 
on the surface of the pond.
The deer in the pinewoods stamps his hoof.
Goldfinches shine as they float through the air.
A person, sometimes, will hum a little Mahler,
Or put arms around old oak tree.
Or take out lovely pencil and notebook to find a few touching, kissing words.

source: “The morning walk” in: Oliver, M. (2004). Long life: essays and other writings. Da Capo Press, p. 83.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: