Snow Geese
Oh, to love what is lovely,
and will not last!
What a task
to ask
What a task
to ask
of anything, or
anyone,
yet it is ours,
and not by the century or the year, but by the hours.
and not by the century or the year, but by the hours.
One fall day I
heard
above me, and above the sting of the wind, a sound
I did not know, and my look shot upward; it was
above me, and above the sting of the wind, a sound
I did not know, and my look shot upward; it was
a flock of snow geese,
winging it
faster than the ones we usually see,
and, being the color of snow, catching the sun
faster than the ones we usually see,
and, being the color of snow, catching the sun
so they were, in part at
least, golden. I
held my breath
as we do
sometimes
to stop time
when something wonderful
has touched us
as we do
sometimes
to stop time
when something wonderful
has touched us
as with a match,
which is lit, and bright,
but does not hurt
in the common way,
which is lit, and bright,
but does not hurt
in the common way,
but delightfully,
as if delight
were the most serious thing
you ever felt.
as if delight
were the most serious thing
you ever felt.
The geese
flew on,
I have never seen them again.
flew on,
I have never seen them again.
Maybe I will, someday,
somewhere.
Maybe I won't.
It doesn't matter.
What matters
is that, when I saw them,
I saw them
as through the veil, secretly, joyfully, clearly.
Maybe I won't.
It doesn't matter.
What matters
is that, when I saw them,
I saw them
as through the veil, secretly, joyfully, clearly.
~ Mary Oliver ~
(Why I Wake
Early)
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