Spring

Lakeside daffodils.jpg


Spring ~ a poem by Mary Oliver

Somewhere
a black bear
has just risen from sleep
and is staring

down the mountain.
All night
in the brisk and shallow restlessness
of early spring

I think of her,
her four black fists
flicking the gravel,
her tongue

like a red fire
touching the grass,
the cold water.
There is only one question:

how to love this world.
I think of her
rising
like a black and leafy ledge

to sharpen her claws against
the silence
of the trees.
Whatever else

my life is
with its poems
and its music
and its glass cities,

it is also this dazzling darkness
coming
down the mountain,
breathing and tasting;

all day I think of herβ€”
her white teeth,
her wordlessness,
her perfect love.


Spring flowers.jpg

Do you have a favourite spring-time poem?

The photos in this post were taken when I was out for a walk last week. I’ll share more spring photos with you this weekend.

 

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10 thoughts on “Spring

    • Me too! I didn’t discover her poems until last year, and I found them at a time when I was feeling stressed about making a difficult decision in my life. They really spoke to me, especially “Wild Geese” — I wrote about it here.

      Thanks for stopping by. πŸ™‚

      Like

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