Ode to Mary Oliver
Ode to Mary Oliver How many hours Do you Or I Have? Not just That we’ve Tucked away Like magpies But how many Do we have In all our cosmic possession? How many golden autumn evenings Where the dusk rises blue and smokey Against the gilt of the setting sun? How many nights Black with it’s liquid rain and worry Pacing Up and down Like fingers Over your fragile spine? How many meals, Eating at this scrubbed wooden table With your children? How many meals at the same wooden table with your parents? How much time do we have, for business meetings, Stop lights, Weeding the flower bed and watching our children sleep? How many more moments do we have? To look up And feel the rain on our faces Splashing like time across our laughing lips and closed tight lids? To look into the person You’ve sat next to For the past twenty years And have the courage To look at them with fresh eyes
