Thursday, June 18, 2009


sometimes mary oliver comes into my head
her voice is so clear,
it's easy to talk like her

and say hellow to crow
hi to sparrow
sit beside that chattering river
and smile at the moon
be thankful for the wind
and the crunchy green
and the soggy brown
and all the ancient heft of stone
worn smooth by water-time
plunge your hands into clean sand
wet your head
in that pond
trust the hungry creatures
and the certainty of heart
in all that rough tangle
frogspawn and pond scum
bubbles from the thick dark muck
that is death and life at once
to walk with a barefoot heart
through fields and forests
loving the sun and the shade
and the softness of the here and now.