Bob Bowers Poems
- Mary Oliver, Poet She asks me, in The Swan, Whether I have ...
- Growing Old Together As I look through the frosted panes Of...
- Fallen Fruit In a fair, still spot Beneath our apple ...
- Cold Days It is spring. Daffodils erupt from snow-clouded ...
- Dying, Slowly It was his eyes That told me of death. Though...
- Conversations How sweet it is Listening to my wife Talking...
- Vietnam War Memorial John reached out with hands No longer ...
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Comments about Bob Bowers
Mary Oliver, Poet
She asks me, in The Swan,
Whether I have figured out what beauty is for
Whether I have changed my life,
This Mary Oliver,
This woman I do not even know.
Where does she get off
Probing me like this
Seeking of me something more
Seeking of me depth of soul
Seeking of me careful thought.
Lifting off from the cool bed
In which she floated the night away
Becomes beauty incarnate
Drips diamonds from her flight
Melts into the day’s calling sun
Like Icarus clothed in his father’s wings
So long ago,
But this time, this one time, ...