Each morning, recently, I have awakened hoping to see buds
bursting green on the branches of my trees. Well, I call them
my trees because they greet me every day, rain or shine.
In the afternoon the sun casts a glow on those trees, the promise of coming
sunny days, yet the branches remain stark against the sky.
Maybe, after some rain, a tomorrow soon will bring that promise.
Until then:
“BEING COUNTRY BRED
Being country bred, I am at ease in darkness;
Like everything that thrives
In fields beyond the city’s keep, I own
Five wooden senses, and a sixth like water.
These things I know
Before they set their mark upon the earth:
Chinook and snow,
Mornings of frost in the well, of birth in the barns.
Sweet world,
Think not to confuse me with poems or love beginning
Without a sigh or sound:
Here at the edge of rivers hung with ice
Spring is still miles away, and yet I wake
Throughout the dark, listen, and throb with all
Her summoning explosions underground.”
……………MARY OLIVER, from New & Selected Poems,
Volume One, 1992
They are predicting weather in the 70’s for the weekend.
Just in time.
always with love,
Mom/Mimi/Toni/Antoinette
To cross paths in human form with your spirit, Antoinette, is the gift of a lifetime! Thank you for all you do, including these luscious poetic posts. ~Dana