The Oak Tree Loves Patience The oak tree loves patience, the mountain is still looking, as it has for centuries, for a word to say about the gradual way it slides itself back to the world below to begin again, in another life, to be fertile. When the… Continue reading Mary Oliver
The Red Leaves take the Green Leaves place and the Landscape yields. We go to sleep with the Peach in our Hands and wake with the Stone, But the Stone is the pledge of Summers to come— — Emily Dickinson, . New Poems of Emily Dickinson. (The University of North Carolina Press January 1,… Continue reading Emily Dickinson
It will illustrate one phase of humanity anyhow; how few of life’s days and hours (and they not by relative value or proportion, but by chance) are ever noted. Probably another point too, how we give long preparations for some object, planning and delving and fashioning, and then, when the actual hour for doing arrives,… Continue reading Walt Whitman
After the rain, I went back into the field of sunflowers. It was cool, and I was anything but drowsy. I walked slowly, and listened to the crazy roots, in the drenched earth, laughing and growing. — Mary Oliver, from “Sometimes,” Red Bird (Beacon Press 2008)
Believe me these are not just words talking. This is my life, thinking of the darkness to follow. — Mary Oliver, from “Sand Dabs, Three,” West Wind: Poems and Prose Poems (Houghton Mifflin, 1997)
Sometimes 1. Something came up out of the dark. It wasn’t anything I had ever seen before. It wasn’t an animal or a flower, unless it was both. Something came up out of the water, a head the size of a cat but muddy and… Continue reading Mary Olive
A lake is a landscape’s most beautiful and expressive feature. It is Earth’s eye; looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature. ― Henry David Thoreau, Walden. (Princeton University Press; 150th Anniversary edition with a New introduction by John Updike edition April 18, 2004) Originally published 1854.