September 04, 2005

At Great Pond

pond_night_group_sm.jpg

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At Great Pond
the sun, rising,
scrapes his orange breast
on the thick pines,
and down tumble
a few orange feathers into
the dark water.
On the far shore
a white bird is standing
like a white candle ---
or a man, in the distance,
in the clasp of some meditation ---
while all around me the lilies
are breaking open again
from the black cave
of the night.
Later, I will consider
what I have seen ---
what it could signify ---
what words of adoration I might
make of it, and to do this
I will go indoors to my desk ---
I will sit in my chair ---
I will look back
into the lost morning
in which I am moving, now,
like a swimmer,
so smoothly,
so peacefully,
I am almost the lily ---
almost the bird vanishing over the water
on its sleeves of night.

Mary Oliver

And so we process experience, because experience does not brook such remove. Be there -- talk about it later.

Sounds like a man contemplating the upcoming camping trip ... Or maybe the shores of mortality. Or maybe he just liked the imagery.

Posted by adam.

Sometimes they seem intertwined.
http://www.mainecourse.com/poem%20html/sleeping.html

Posted by michael.

Posted by Michael at September 4, 2005 05:52 PM
Comments

And so we process experience, because experience does not brook such remove. Be there -- talk about it later.

Sounds like a man contemplating the upcoming camping trip ... Or maybe the shores of mortality. Or maybe he just liked the imagery.

Posted by: adamat September 4, 2005 06:50 PM

Sometimes they seem intertwined.
http://www.mainecourse.com/poem%20html/sleeping.html

Posted by: michaelat September 4, 2005 07:15 PM
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