Thursday, May 16, 2019

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, from Red Bird

3 comments:

One Woman's Journey - a journal being written from Woodhaven - her cottage in the woods. said...

Yes, it is what it is
accept
Her poems are me

Barbara R. said...

Ah yes, the choosing of her words just sink into a soul-place which always says, ah-ha. Sigh. Beautiful heart touch.

Blue Sky Dreaming said...

thank you...