Mary Oliver

something whispered something

that was not even a word.

it was more like a silence

(from: who said this?)

ever since last year’s “creative practice” retreat i have been engaging in the practice of poetry reading in the morning before i start working with my to-do lists.  mary oliver is one of my favorites – no surprise as she writes primarily about connecting with and learning from nature. 

i will often run across a segment of one of her poems that i resonate with and highlight and often, the words will seem to have a direct link to photographic images i may have in my archives.  so today i share some of her words matched with some of my images.  connecting words and images is, for me, one of the most meaningful and satisfying forms of creative expression.

heart,

i implore you,

it’s time to come back

from the dark,

it’s morning,

the hills are pink

(summer morning)

  

i wouldn’t mind being a rose

in a field full or roses.

fear has not yet occurred to them, nor ambition.

reason they have not yet thought of.

neither do they ask how long they must be roses, and then what.

or any other foolish question.

(roses, late summer)

by the time summer

opened its green harbors

the field was nothing but flowers, flowers, flowers,

from shore to shore.

(prince buzzard)

what i want in my life

is to be willing

to be dazzled –

to cast aside the weight of facts

and maybe even

to float a little

above this difficult world.

i want to believe that the imperfections are nothing –

that the light is everything – that it is more than the sum

of each flawed blossom rising and fading.  and i do.

(the ponds)

 

nothing but light – scalding, aortal light –

in which we are washed and washed

out of our bones

(white owl flies into and out of the field)

seriously, i could go on.... i could do this all day, but alas, duty calls, so until next time....