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The Poet Dreams of the Mountain
Sometimes I grow weary of the days with all their fits and starts. I want to climb some old grey mountain, slowly, taking the rest of my life to do it, resting often, sleeping under the pines or, above them, on the unclothed rocks. I want to see how many stars are still in the sky that we have smothered for years now, forgiving it all,and eaceful, knowing the last thing there is to know. All that urgency! Not what the earth is about! How silent the trees, their poetry being of themselves only. I want to take slow steps, and think appropriate thoughts. In ten thousand years, maybe, a piece of the mountain will fall.
~ Mary Oliver ~ The Swan
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IMAGE: Misty Ridges on East Slope of the Andes, Ecuador
https://www.poetryconnection.net/poets/Mary_Oliver/3088
VIEW 86 Poems written by Mary Oliver
