Life's been a little hectic lately. Instead of packing my brain with information from the various books stacked by my bed, I pull out Mary Oliver's wonderful volume, and choose one poem. The last lines inspire me to greater simplicity and contentment.
Winter
And the waves
gush pearls
from their snowy throats
as they come
leaping
over the moss-green,
black-green,
glass-green roughage ---
as they crumble
on the incline
scattering
whatever they carry
in their invisible
and motherly
hands:
stones,
seaweed,
mussels
icy and plump
with waled shells,
waiting
for the gatherers
who come flying
on their long white wings---
who comes walking,
who comes muttering:
thank you,
old dainties,
dark wreckage,
coins of the sea
in my pockets
and plenty for the gulls
and the wind still pounding
and the sea still streaming in like a mother wild with gifts---
in this world I am as rich
as I need to be.
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