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In March the earth remembers its own name. Everywhere the plates of snow are cracking. The rivers begin to sing. In the sky the winter stars are sliding away; new stars appear as, later, small blades of grain will shine in the dark fields. And the name of every place is joyful.
— Mary Oliver, from "Worm Moon" in “Twelve Moons” (via Alive on All Channels)
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“i thought the earth / remembered me, she / took me back so tenderly, arranging / her dark skirts, her pockets / full of lichens and seeds.”
— mary oliver, “sleeping in the forest,” devotions (from twelve moons)
We would sleep and dream.
We would wake and tell
How we longed for the spring.
Smiles on our faces,
Mary Oliver, from Winter Sleep in "Twelve Moons"
taking my sweet time reading Mary Oliver’s Devotions 🤍
The Black Snake
When the black snake flashed onto the morning road, and the truck could not swerve--- death, that is how it happens.
Now he lies looped and useless as an old bicycle tire. I stop the car and carry him into the bushes.
He is as cool and gleaming as a braided whip, he is as beautiful and quiet as a dead brother. I leave him under the leaves
and drive on, thinking about death: its suddenness, its terrible weight, its certain coming. Yet under
reason burns a brighter fire, which the bones have always preferred. It is the story of endless good fortune. It says to oblivion: not me!
It is the light at the center of every cell. It is what sent the snake coiling and flowing forward happily all spring through the green leaves before he came to the road.
Mary Oliver, Twelve Moons (Little, Brown, 1979)
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fr. “Twelve Moons” by Mary Oliver
You light the lamps because you are alone in your small house and the wicks sputtering gold are like two visitors with good stories they will tell slowly, in soft voices.
Mary Oliver, Worm Moon
