Saturday, February 07, 2015

Orange All Day Long

Who knew, or considered, that the mallard's feet held the color of the sunset all day long?

For whatever reason, today I have been going over in my mind 
what I might call The Written Accomplishments of My Life. It has been 
depressing and rewarding, all at the same time. I have been storing everything 
on Google Drive, which I recommend.  Tonight, I found some poems there 
that I long ago began with phrases from another poem, like this one
from Shirley Kaufman. "We cross the field . . ."
I am tuning the second part of it up now
and hope to offer it here tomorrow.
But below is not me, but Mary Oliver.
She likes the wild things, too!

What Gorgeous Thing

I do not know what gorgeous thing
the bluebird keeps saying,
his voice easing out of his throat,
beak, body into the pink air
of the early morning. I like it
whatever it is. Sometimes, 
it seems the only thing in the world
that is without dark thoughts.
Sometimes, it seems the only thing 
in the world that is without 
questions that can't and probably
never will be, answered, the
only thing that is entirely content
with the pink, then clear white
morning and gratefully says so.

Mary Oliver

in Blue Horses,  Kindle location 572.

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