Thursday, April 23, 2020

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


Pienosole said...


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

Thank You
a Favorite

Barbara Rogers said...

The river of my imagination is still somewhat frozen over, as I think it must be flowing very deeply these days. Thank you, and thank Mary Oliver for her diligent practice of rising early each morning to write. What a wonderful talented woman.

christinalfrutiger said...

What an absolutely beautiful, sparkling photo! Is that on your property? I could just sit there all day and watch that scene change.