Thursday, October 4, 2007

For grins and because it's a good poem:

by Mary Oliver from
Owls and Other Fantasies

Every morning
along the beach

as though he found the world
and wonderful,
and, without a doubt,

made especially for him.
The eiders stare,
the black ducks are busy
with their own affairs

as he marches
along the wrack line
on his sturdy feet
to the bounty of stranded sea worms,

abandoned bags of popcorn---
"oh yes," his big black beak seems to say,
"this is good,
here is breakfast and lunch both,

and as for dinner,
I'll be back.
What a good world!"

I wish we could be friends,
but when he sees me
daring to look at him
he opens his strong arms

that are dressed, as always, in the darkest ribbons,
and floats off--
but only a little way
and he's down again on the sandy track---

and who has seen yet anything cleaner,
more gleaming, more certain of its philosophy
than the eye he turns back?

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