Music's Like a Snuggie for Your Soul

MUSIC'S LIKE A SNUGGIE FOR YOUR SOUL

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Spring by Mary Oliver

Spring

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 her—
    her white teeth,
      her wordlessness,
         her perfect love.

8 comments:

  1. You are here! We have missed you, dear! Are you all right? How is your life?

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    Replies
    1. Aw, thanks Ms. Moon. Things are good! It may take me a bit to get into the habit of posting again, but i've sure missed keeping up with everyone. The further and further away my days of chicken-sitting, garden-tending and flower-mongering get, the more and more i need you.

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  2. Yess! You are back, I hope. Missed you.

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    Replies
    1. Thanks so much, Sabine. I hope to be back. There may not be a whole lot in my life fit for reporting, but i've been missing out on keeping up with all of you.

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  3. Great poem, great pic. I love bears.

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  4. OMG! You are back. I missed you, lovely lady!

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  5. You're certainly generous in your descriptors, sweet Birdie. I'm sorry i lost touch. I'm amazed anyone lingered a second here in the first place, much less came back after having been left hanging for so long. I'm honored and humbled and crazy grateful.

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