Mary Oliver Poems
|81.||At Blackwater Pond||1/13/2003|
|82.||When Death Comes||1/3/2003|
|83.||Poem (The Spirit Likes To Dress Up...)||1/13/2003|
|88.||Last Night The Rain Spoke To Me||3/30/2005|
|89.||Sleeping In The Forest||1/3/2003|
|90.||At Great Pond||1/3/2003|
|91.||Picking Blueberries, Austerlitz, New York,1957||3/30/2005|
|92.||Beyond The Snow Belt||3/30/2005|
Picking Blueberries, Austerlitz, New York,1957
Once, in summer
in the blueberries,
I fell asleep, and woke
when a deer stumbled against me.
she was so busy with her own happiness
she had grown careless
and was just wandering along
to the wind as she leaned down
to lip up the sweetness.
So, there we were
with nothing between us
but a few leaves, and wind’s
backed away finally
and flung up her white tail
and went floating off toward the trees -
but the moment she did that
was so wide and so ...
Oh, to love what is lovely, and will not last!
What a task
of anything, or anyone,
yet it is ours,
and not by the century or the year, but by the hours.
One fall day I heard
above me, and above the sting of the wind, a sound
I did not know, and my look shot upward; it was