Lauds–NaPoWriMo, Day 2

Photo: Wikipedia Commons

In the morning the blue heron is busy.
To all appearances still, beside deep water
he contemplates.

Appearances deceive.

A rush, a feathery flurry, flash of silver
dripping rainbows,
then they’re gone.

And such is life—

a moment’s pause before climactic endings,
while from a distant branch a mockingbird
sings praise.

The first line of this poem is taken from the work of Mary Oliver–NaPoWriMo’s Day 2 Prompt. While my goal is to write a poem daily during April, I may lag behind and most likely will not post all of them.

The previous post is my poem for dVerse Meeting the Bar on Irony.

Hot Chocolate and Mary

The leaves of an elm splash
dappled sunlight on the forest
floor. A chill lingers in the
air so we share hot chocolate
from a thermos, pour the creamy
liquid into insulated mugs.

Age does not prevent her
from sprawling on the earth
she loves so passionately.
She leans against the tree’s
stout trunk, says, “I’m yours.”

My mouth is dry like when
the dentist stuffs it full of
cotton rolls. Disbelief numbs
me till she laughs—a sound
as real as songs of her beloved
birds that sing their prayers
in unison from the surrounding
branches and marshy meadows.

“I’m yours,” she says again,
reminding me I’m here to do
the interview I’ve wished for,
nurtured in my imagination
since I discovered her.

“Your life,” I coax, knowing
that but a single word suffices.

As for myself
I swung the door open and there was
The wordless singing world. And I ran for my life.

“You ran to it?”

“Yes, immersed myself in beauty.”
While on and on the sparrow sings.

“And aging? If you don’t mind, that is.”

In the deep fall, don’t you imagine the leaves think
how comfortable it will be to touch
the earth…?”

…and what shall I wish for myself but,
being so struck by the lightning of years
to live with what is left, loving.

“Any regrets?”

There wasn’t
time enough for all the wonderful things
I could think of to do

In a single day…

“If you could choreograph your death?”

…Maybe on a midsummer night’s eve,
And without fanfare.

“About death?”

So it is
if the heart has devoted itself to love, there is
not a single inch of emptiness. Gladness gleams
all the way to the grave.

“And after?”

If there’s a temple, I haven’t found it yet,
I simply go on drifting, in the heaven of grass
and the weeds.

She takes her leave.
I watch her walk across the fields,
stopping to listen
or to follow the flight of a heron.
She’s alone now
with Percy her dog
and memories of having lived well.

 

I would do just about anything to spend an hour with Mary Oliver, a poet who has touched my life and my writing so deeply. This is an imagined interview. The responses in italics are all snippets of her poetry chosen from the Volume “New and Selected Poems, Volume Two.” I wrote this in response to Claudia’s prompt on Saturday but didn’t have time to develop it beyond an idea. So here it is, linked to dVerse Poets Open Link Night. The mics are open Tuesday, 3:00 EST. Check it out!

Dawn

Early pale-pink dawn
egret rests at water’s edge
in shut-eyed prayer perhaps
contemplating pleasures
of inviolate freedom.
Of a sudden, flinging
white wings wide-open
he soars into the freshness
of a flawless new beginning.

Photo: Graham Owen

Over at dVerse Poetics, Brian Miller invites us to write a poems using random words offered by a friend or chosen from pages of a book. I chose mine from the poetry of Mary Oliver. I cannot get enough of her work.

The words I happened upon: Nouns–pleasures, egret; Verbs–fly, fling; Adjectives–pale-pink, unviolated; Random–prayer, edge. This is a wonderfully creative prompt. I hope you will join us! They fit a scenario I witnessed this morning!

Trust

Photo Credit: Gary Bogue

Trust

And how does the turtle feel as she covers her eggs
with the sweep of her feet,
then leaves them for the world to take care of?

Mary Oliver
Mysteries, Four of the Simple Ones
New and Selected Poems, Volume Two

Last spring, after her fledglings left the nest,
mama dove hung around for days, waiting.
She watched me through the kitchen window,
woeful eyes fixed on my hands, awash
in soapy bubbles bearing rainbows.

I didn’t see her babies again, nor did she, I suppose—
only the hawk circling in the distance.
Fretting, I struggled to trust nature’s caring
just like I do each time I send my words soaring,
out into the wide, wild world.

I’ve been mulling over Claudia‘s Letting Go prompt for Poetics last week…and her own experience. This is what came of it. Linking to OLN.  

Early Morning Coffee with Mary Oliver

Photo Credit: David Slotto

I sit in dappled
early morning light
sipping poetry—
earth-bound,

heaven-infused.
Nature simmers beauty,
breathes the freshness
of a flawless new day.

The shadow of a hawk
flutters by,
skims dry-grass-
gold of a near-by hill.

A blackbird nags.
Wrens and finches punctuate
from pendulous branches
of our cherry tree.

A flash of orange
meets orange. Copulates.
Red hot pokers
seduce orioles.

Ample branches
of our Ash
conduct the choir.
I applaud.

Submitted to dVerse Poets’ Pub, Open Link Night.