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Here's a poem by Mary Oliver.
I'll post another absolutely beautiful (and sexy) one by her soon, but am feeling weighed down and frustrated with stuff right now and this made me think of the following poem.
Think I'll put on my gym clothes and go for a nice walk before my date for now though, since the sun has finally come out.
SPRING AZURES
by Mary OliverIn the spring the blue azures bow down
at the edges of shallow puddles
to drink the black rain water.
Then they rise and float away into the fields.
Sometimes the great bones of my life feel so heavy,
and all the tricks my body knows—
the opposable thumbs, the kneecaps,
and the mind clicking and clicking—
don't seem enough to carry me through this world
and I think: how I would like
to have wings—
blue ones—
ribbons of flame.
How I would like to open them, and rise
from the black rain water.
And then I think of Blake, in the dirt and sweat of London—a boy
staring through the window, when God came
fluttering up.
Of course, he screamed,
seeing the bobbin of God's blue body
leaning on the sill,
and the thousand-faceted eyes.
Well, who knows.
Who knows what hung, fluttering, at the window
between him and the darkness.
Anyway, Blake the hosier's son stood up
and turned away from the sooty sill and the dark eyes—
turned away forever
from the factories, the personal strivings,
to a life of the imagination.
5:00 p.m. - 2005-03-08
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