"Cliff Song"      Watercolor

 Copyright 2015.  All rights reserved.

A Mary Oliver Poem

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
     love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean-blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

April and Spring

Eve's Birthday Poppy

Watercolor Painting
Copyright 2015. All Rights Reserved.

Here is a favorite poem of mine that I read every spring.  Beautiful.

FORSYTHIA

You said, take a few dry

sticks, cut the ends slantwise

to let in water, stick them
 in the old silver cup on the

dresser in the spare room and

wait for the touch of Easter.

But a cold wave protected the

snow, and the sap's pulse beat

so low underground I felt no

answer in myself except silence.

You said, winter breaks out in

flowers for the faithful and

today when I opened the door

the dry sticks spoke in little

yellow stars and I thought

of you.

 

Happy Birthday, Mom.