A day in gold

reddirtlattes/ December 4, 2019/ Gulf Islands, Canada/ 1 comments

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“This World” by Mary Oliver

I would like to write a poem about the world that has in it
nothing fancy.
But it seems impossible.
Whatever the subject, the morning sun
glimmers it.
The tulip feels the heat and flaps its petals open and becomes a star.
The ants bore into the peony bud and there is a dark
pinprick well of sweetness.
As for the stones on the beach, forget it.
Each one could be set in gold.
So I tried with my eyes shut, but of course the birds
were singing.
And the aspen trees were shaking the sweetest music
out of their leaves.
And that was followed by, guess what, a momentous and
beautiful silence
as comes to all of us, in little earfuls, if we’re not too
hurried to hear it.
As for spiders, how the dew hangs in their webs
even if they say nothing, or seem to say nothing.
So fancy is the world, who knows, maybe they sing.
So fancy is the world, who knows, maybe the stars sing too,
and the ants, and the peonies, and the warm stones,
so happy to be where they are, on the beach, instead of being
locked up in gold.


 

Today I ran on the beach with my children.

We hunted for spiders once home.

Watched a bald eagle fly over an orchard on our drive.

A pileated woodpecker visited our garden, drilling holes in my maple.

The rain fell at times.

The slightest hint of a sunrise when we woke.

Flashlights in the dark, as stars sprinkled the night, while frogs were hunted for before bed.

We listened closely to the silence.

 

 

 

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1 Comment

  1. Poetry excites the mind to emotions on high. Here’s a poem for you to enjoy my latest piece made for a riddle I deployed. 🙂

    Poem Riddles

    Seek and I am bound,
    Etched in chains and a prison cell,
    Most pass through me where I am found.
    In seeking freedom out of this carousel.
    Surrounded in Brick and Mortar,
    Only in Hell can I be a supporter.
    Letters I beheld,
    Inside of this prison cell.
    Do you see me free; now?

    (it’s when centered, forms a lock(shape poem), It’s also a name poem, its related to Mario Maker 2 level of an escape house, but it can carry any meaning of the reader) Currently left untitled since September.

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