Hello all you Zen bloggers. Mary Oliver is an extraordiary poet with a true zen soul. Here is one of her bleaker poems for you to contemplate: It is named "ENCOUNTER"
I lift the small brown mouse
Out of the path and hold him.
He has no more to say,
No lilt of feet to run on.
He's cold, still soft, but idle.
As though he were a stone
I launch him from my hand;
His body falls away
Into the shadowed wood
Where the crackling leaves rain down,
Where the year is mostly over.
"Poor creature," I might say,
But what's the use of that.
The clock in him is broken.
And as for ceremony,
Already the leaves have swirled
Over, the wind has spoken
Meanwhile, in the Kootenays, it is still snowing-on the first day of April-and I think of you all amongst the daffodils and the sea breezes..............Rivkah
Believe it or not...it snowed here in Sooke today as well...
ReplyDeleteThanks for the poem, and so nice to hear from a "distance" member:)
Be well,
Eshu
Thanks so much Rivkah -- adore her work and hadn't read that poem. Reminds me of finding 3 dead baby mice and one half frozen barely alive one at UVic a couple years ago. I panicked, wrapped the living one in tissue, and brought it to work to warm it up and then called Reese to ask him what should be done as he is quite experienced with animal stuff. He gently reminded me that it was not my place to interfere and that the baby was so small that it would die anyway if humans tried to care for it. I returned the mouse to the place I had taken it from, looked up and to my surprise saw the mother waiting patiently in the brush nearby. If I had been more attentive the first time around I would have seen her instead of just seeing death and trying to run away from it. She came over to me, picked up the baby in her mouth, gave me an unforgettable look and carried the baby off.
ReplyDeleteIt slush-snowed here too! The daffodils seem to be holding up though :)