Thursday, May 17, 2018

Thursday Poem - Mornings at Blackwater Pond

For years, every morning, I drank
from Blackwater Pond.
It was flavored with oak leaves and also, no doubt,
the feet of ducks.

And always it assuaged me
from the dry bowl of the very far past.

What I want to say is
that the past is the past,
and the present is what your life is,
and you are capable
of choosing what that will be,
darling citizen.

So come to the pond,
or the river of your imagination,
or the harbor of your longing,

and put your lips to the world.
And live
your life.

Mary Oliver


Barbara Rogers said...

So lovely. Photo, poem, thoughts...emotions!

Debbie said...

Gorgeous photo! Smiling because I've recently returned to that beautiful poem as well.

Blessings on your journey, dearest!

Elliot Tanager said...

Thank you so so much for your writing and your photos and the poems. It is wonderful to find them waiting for me each day.

Guy said...

I have quoted part of this on my blog. I am ensnared in the past currently and need this reminder.

Thanks Guy