Mary Oliver's new book, A Thousand Mornings, has, as all her books do, a handful of very fine pieces. It's well worth reading; I find myself returning to poem after poem. There is a delicate simplicity, a certain lyric sleight of hand she performs that transports us to that place of awe and revelation. Here is a poem from that collection:
Today I'm flying low and I'm
not saying a word.
I'm letting all the voodoos of ambition sleep.
The world goes on as it must,
the bees in the garden rumbling a little,
the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten.
And so forth.
But I'm taking the day off.
Quiet as a feather.
I hardly move though really I'm traveling
a terrific distance.
Stillness. One of the doors
into the temple.
~ Mary Oliver
Wednesday Haiku will return next week.
on a snowy day
the temple is packed...
translated by David G. Lanoue
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