Sleeping in the Forest
From the poem by Mary Oliver
I thought the earth remembered me,
she took me back so tenderly,
arranging her dark skirts, her pockets
full of lichens and seeds.
I slept as never before, a stone on the river bed,
nothing between me and the white fire of the stars
but my thoughts, and they floated light as moths
among the branches of the perfect trees.
All night I heard the small kingdoms
breathing around me, the insects,
and the birds who do their work in the darkness.
All night I rose and fell, as if in water,
grappling with a luminous doom. By morning
I had vanished at least a dozen times
into something better.
Comments
Great selection. I love Mary Oliver. She makes this city boy want to be an outdoorsman.
Posted by: Cody | January 30, 2004 9:50 AM
But don't you wonder what kept the insects from crawling all over HER? Was she in a sleeping bag? I always love the IDEA of sleeping outside under the stars, until an unexpected shower or a curious visitor from the animal kingdom intrudes on my poetic musings. Oh dear. My unpoetry is showing.
Posted by: travelertrish | January 30, 2004 11:33 AM
I giggled at your "unpoetry", traveltrish!
Sometimes my unpoetry blinds me to the nuggets of substance that I might otherwise seize upon.
Today my poetry is receptive, thanks to fred's previous call to arms. Only one of the reasons I love to visit with fred.
Posted by: ntexas99 | January 30, 2004 10:27 PM