¤ ¤ ¤
Every night in the moonlight the foxes come down the hill
to gnaw on the bones of birds. I never said
nature wasn’t cruel. Once, in a city as hot as these woods
are cold, I met a boy with a broken face. To stay
alive, he was a beggar. Also, in the night, a thief.
And there are birds in his country that look like rainbows—
if he could have caught them, he would have
torn off their feathers and put their bodies into
his own. The foxes are hungry, who could blame them
for what they do? I never said
we weren’t sunk in glittering nature, until we are able
to become something else. As for the boy, it’s simple.
He had nothing, not even a bird. All night the pines
are so cold their branches crack. All night the snow falls
softly down. Then it shines like a field
of white flowers. Then it tightens.
—Mary Oliver
SandySue Altered
Jan 26, 2013 @ 07:10:30
Oh, Sandy… you know these words and this artwork especially, speaks to my very soul! I absolutely love this card you have created.
Jan 26, 2013 @ 20:28:28
thank you, Nature Girl.
Jan 26, 2013 @ 09:58:40
Lovely poem and cool art.
Jan 26, 2013 @ 20:28:04
Thanks, Tori. I’ve just started to read Mary Oliver and love her.
Jan 26, 2013 @ 22:23:30
Wow! You made that card? If so, it’s phenomenal! I take a special interest in pieces like that as a result of my inner scrapbook nerd. I’m going to try something like that out soon. Thank you for sharing that! You are very talented.
Jan 27, 2013 @ 05:13:52
Thank you. This is one of my more inspired ones, if I say so myself.
Feb 01, 2013 @ 14:39:23
In a word: beautiful. Poetry, something about it just skips the forebrain and gets you right in the subconscious, huh?
Feb 01, 2013 @ 17:56:20
True, true, true.