•
Every day
on my way to the pond
I pass the lightning-felled,
chesty,
hundred-fingered, black oak
which, summers ago,
swam forward when the storm
·
laid one lean yellow wand against it, smoking it open
to its rosy heart.
It dropped down
in a veil of rain,
in a cloud of sap and fire,
and became what it has been ever since—
a black boat
floating
in the tossing leaves of summer,
·
like the coffin of Osiris
descending
upon the cloudy Nile.
But, listen, I’m tired of that brazen promise:
death and resurrection.
I’m tired of hearing how the nitrogens will return
to the earth again,
through the hinterland of patience—
how the mushrooms and the yeasts
will arrive in the wind—
how they’ll anchor the pearls of their bodies and begin
to gnaw through the darkness,
like wolves at bones—
·
what I loved, I mean, was that tree—
tree of the moment—tree of my own sad, mortal heart—
and I don’t want to sing anymore of the way
·
Osiris came home at last, on a clean
and powerful ship, over
the dangerous sea, as a tall
and beautiful stranger.
—Mary Oliver
SandySue Altered
Apr 13, 2013 @ 05:14:00
Beautiful…thank you for sharing.
Apr 13, 2013 @ 06:09:23
Hundred fingered … Delightful imagery in this one: good writing.
Apr 13, 2013 @ 06:21:10
I agree whole-heartedly. Mary Oliver’s images are deceptively simple.
Apr 13, 2013 @ 08:59:45
Gorgeous. I only occasionally read poetry, which is my loss, I’m sure.
Apr 13, 2013 @ 12:05:35
Some flies over my head, but Mary Oliver seems to zing right to my heart.
Apr 15, 2013 @ 07:58:38
Oh, my goodness! This is absolutely beautiful!! Thank you for sharing!
Apr 15, 2013 @ 17:57:46
Always my pleasure to share the poetry I love so much.
Apr 16, 2013 @ 01:09:50
Welcome to the official “Tree-Huggers Union” LOL
Nice!
Apr 16, 2013 @ 04:10:27
Thanks, ever so! Is there a T-shirt?
Apr 16, 2013 @ 09:01:45
Um…no… not yet…
🙂