Spring – Mary Oliver
Somewhere
a black bear
has just risen from sleep
and is staring
down the mountain.
All night
in the brisk and shallow restlessness
of early spring
I think of her,
her four black fists
flicking against the gravel,
her tongue
like a red fire
touching the grass,
the cold water.
There is only one question:
how to love this world.
I think of her
rising
like a black and leafy ledge
to sharpen her claws against
the silence
of the trees.
Whatever else
my life is
with its poems
and its music
and its glass cities,
it is also this dazzling darkness
coming
down the mountain,
breathing and tasting,
all day I think of her -
her white teeth,
her wordlessness,
her perfect love.
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9 Comments
Breathing, tasting, and loving this world … Wow, what imagery!
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Happy Poetry Month! Thanks for sharing this piece. It’s breathtaking.
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Gorgeous.
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Mmmm… what a lovely read.
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Perfect for this weather.
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Throughout my childhood I dreamed repeatedly of bears—at first fierce and attacking, eventually guiding and helping.
I can only wish to join the Great Animal in the her singular question.
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Lady, you have such a gift. beautiful.
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Um. Sorry. You’re not Mary Oliver.
And I’m not awake yet.
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Mmmm… what a lovely read.
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