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| IMAGE CREDIT |
The post I published here in the wee hours of this day is one I actually wrote the other week but I had scheduled it for publication this morning as it mostly discusses a silly holiday that takes place today.
My morning and afternoon have been spent reading over some of Mary Oliver's poetry to prepare for an upcoming opportunity. Most of her poems that I've read have dealt with birds and other animals which I've referenced here within my blog. It is only today that I discovered her poem, Flare, and here is a passage (from stanza 12):
When loneliness comes stalking, go into the fields, consider
the orderliness of the world. Notice
something you have never noticed before,
like the tambourine sound of the snow-cricket
whose pale green body is no longer than your thumb.
Stare hard at the hummingbird, in the summer rain,
shaking the water-sparks from its wings.
Let grief be your sister, she will whether or no.
Rise up from the stump of sorrow, and be green also,
like the diligent leaves.
A lifetime isn't long enough for the beauty of this world
and the responsibilities of your life.
Scatter your flowers over the graves, and walk away.
Be good-natured and untidy in your exuberance.
In the glare of your mind, be modest.
And beholden to what is tactile, and thrilling.
Live with the beetle, and the wind.
This is the dark bread of the poem.
This is the dark and nourishing bread of the poem.
After coming upon this poem, I did even more research and came across an interview she had with Maria Shriver.
