Sunday, September 28, 2008


Are not the difficult labors of our lives
full of dark hours?
And what has consciousness come to anyway, so far,

that is better than these light-filled bodies?
All day
on their airy backbones
they toss in the wind,

they bend as though it was natural and godly to bend,
they rise in a stiff sweetness,
in the pure peace of giving
one's gold away.

Excerpt from Goldenrod, by Mary Oliver


litobrancha said...

yummy stuff full of six legged diversity. you wanna see some critters, go find you a patch of solidago and stare at it for a while. nice beetle.

Western North Carolina Writer's Underground said...

Wonderful macro. If I could only write poetry so well.