Tuesday, February 10, 2009


Only occasionally is my backyard graced by these stately birds. This is twice this week.
Fortunate me.
by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good,

You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting,

You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile, the world goes on,

Meanwhile, the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes,

Over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers,

Meanwhile, the wild geese, high in the clean blue air are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

The world offers itself to your imagination.

Calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting,

Over and over announcing your place in the family of things.


Dalesings said...

How fortunate, indeed!

How fortunate that you know the poetry of Mary Oliver!

How fortunate that you share the Canada geese and Mary Oliver's poetry with us.

I am blessed by you. And am grateful for that.


Morning Angel said...

Thank you, Uncle. It's from my dad that I learned to find happiness in the brief and small, perhaps the greatest gift he ever gave me.