When I am among the trees,especially the willows and the honey locust,equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,they give off such hints of gladness.I would almost say that they save me, and daily. I am so distant from the hope of myself,in which I have goodness, and discernment,and never hurry through the worldbut walkContinue reading “When I Am Among the Trees”
Tag Archives: Mary Oliver
Poem 133: The Summer Day
Who made the world?Who made the swan, and the black bear?Who made the grasshopper?This grasshopper, I mean—the one who has flung herself out of the grass,the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—who is gazing around with her enormous and complicatedContinue reading “Poem 133: The Summer Day”
A Burd in Flight 