Recognizing Seasons

imageYou know I have been awakened to find a poem
for this day. I could distract us by leading up to what was found.

What I’ve found is simply strange and wonderful enough
to stand on its own:

“H U R R I C A N E

It didn’t behave
like anything you had
ever imagined. The wind
tore at the trees, the rain
fell for days slant and hard.

The back of the hand
to everything. I watched

the trees bow and their leaves fall

and crawl back into the earth.

As though, that was that.

This one hurricane

I lived through, the other one

was of a different sort, and

lasted longer. Then

I felt my own leaves giving up and falling.

The back of the hand to
everything. But listen now to what happened

to the actual trees;

toward the end of that summer they

pushed new leaves from their stubbed limbs.

It was the wrong season, yes,

but they couldn’t stop. They

looked like telephone poles and didn’t

care. And after the leaves came

blossoms. For some things

there are no wrong seasons.

Which is what I dream of for me.”

…………….MARY OLIVER,
from her book of poetry, A Thousand Mornings.

always with love,
Mom/Mimi/Toni/Antoinette

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