Don’t call this world adorable, or useful, that’s not it.
It’s frisky, and a theater for more than fair winds.
The eyelash of lightning is neither good nor evil.
The struck tree burns like a pillar of gold.
But the blue rain sinks, straight to the white
feet of the trees
whose mouths open.
Doesn’t the wind, turning in circles, invent the dance?
Haven’t the flowers moved, slowly, across Asia, then Europe,
until at last, now, they shine
in your own yard?
Don’t call this world an explanation, or even an education.
When the Sufi poet whirled, was he looking
outward, to the mountains so solidly there
in a white-capped ring, or was he looking
to the center of everything: the seed, the egg, the idea
that was also there,
beautiful as a thumb
curved and touching the finger, tenderly,
little love-ring,
as he whirled,
oh jug of breath,
in the garden of dust?

from Why I Wake Early (2004)


  • 3
  • 2
Login to comment...
Nehal Vaidya
over 2 years

Beautiful, I am in love with her poetry.

kamila more cabisada
over 4 years

I'm a fan. <3

Cory Garcia
almost 8 years

Love this :)

Liked or faved by...

Nehal Vaidya kamila more cabisada Cory Garcia

Other works by Mary Oliver...

Some poets who follow Mary Oliver...

Ella Jane Gabriela Pérez Francesca Prato Weaknessheart Kara McCabe Julia W