I wonder if the sun debates dawn some mornings not wanting to rise out of bed from under that down-feather horizon if the sky grows tired...

I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers flow in the right direction, will the earth turn as it was taught, and if not how...

I have been in love more times than one, thank the Lord. Sometimes it was lasting whether active or not. Sometimes it was all but...

Will the hungry ox stand in the field and not eat of the sweet grass? Will the owl bite off its own wings? Will the lark forget to lift...

Now the seasons are closing their files on each of us, the heavy drawers full of certificates rolling back into the tree trunks, a few...

Your exact errors make a music that nobody hears. Your straying feet find the great dance, walking alone. And you live on a world where...

Sometimes I choose a cloud and let it cross the sky floating me away. Or a bird unravels its song and carries me as it flies deeper and...

Be a person here. Stand by the river, invoke the owls. Invoke winter, then spring. Let any season that wants to come here make its own...

At Blackwater Pond the tossed waters have settled after a night of rain. I dip my cupped hands. I drink a long time. It tastes like...

I like to live in the sound of water, in the feel of mountain air. A sharp reminder hits me: this world is still alive, it stretches out...

even a small purple artichoke boiled in its own bittered and darkening waters grows tender, grows tender and sweet patience, I...

The poppies send up their orange flares; swaying in the wind, their congregations are a levitation of bright dust, of thin and lacy...

The hour is striking so close above me, so clear and sharp, that all my senses ring with it. I feel it now: there's a power in me to...

The birds have vanished down the sky. Now the last cloud drains away. We sit together, the mountain and me, until only the mountain...

Landscape Mary Oliver Isn't it plain the sheets of moss, except that they have no tongues, could lecture all day if they wanted about ...

Enough. These few words are enough. If not these words, this breath. If not this breath, this sitting here. This opening to the life ...

Sometimes the desire to be lost again, as long ago, comes over me like a vapor. With growth into adulthood, responsibilities claimed me,...

MYSTERIES, YES by Mary Oliver, from Evidence (Beacon Press) Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous to be understood. How grass...

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here, And you must treat it as a powerful...

I would love to live like a river flows, carried by the surprise of its own unfolding. From Anam Cara A Book Of Celtic Wisdom Join my...