Thursday, November 27, 2014

Walking Home from Oak-Head


"Walking Home from Oak-Head"

by Mary Oliver


There is something
  about the snow-laden sky
     in winter
        in the late afternoon

that brings to the heart elation
  and the lovely meaninglessness
         of time.
               Whenever I get home -- whenever --

somebody loves me there.
  Meanwhile
        I stand in the same dark peace
                as any pine tree,

or wander on slowly
   like the still unhurried wind,
         waiting,
               as for a gift,

for the snow to begin
   which it does
          at first casually,
                 then, irrepressibly.

Wherever else I live --
   in music, in words,
          in the fires of the heart,
                I abide just as deeply

in this nameless, indivisible place,
   this world,
         which is falling apart now,
                which is white and wild,

which is faithful beyond all our expressions of faith,
  our deepest prayers.
        Don't worry, sooner or later I'll be home.
               Red-cheeked from the roused wind,

I'll stand in the doorway
    stamping my boots and slapping my hands,
           my shoulders
                 covered with stars.


I wish you all the happiest of Thanksgivings, filled with many blessings.  And I also hope that, whenever you get home, that somebody loves you there.

5 comments:

  1. Extremely thank ful it isn't snowing making my daughter's grilling less laborious. Good day.

    Thank you for the kind greetings and for sharing the wonder poem. Happy Thanksgiving to you and all the family. Here's to a peace filled day, weekend. :-)

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  2. I am a Mary Oliver fan yet I don't remember ever reading this one. A perfect Thanksgiving poem.

    May we all have someone to love and to love us.

    Happy Thanksgiving!

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  3. A very happy Thanksgiving to you, too!

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  4. hello and happy thanks giving after the fact :^)

    what is it about mary oliver? i think it must be that she writes as if in conversation, and her astonishment at the simplest things she gleans causes our own astonishment. in this poem, that last line--my shoulders covered with stars--is an example. i know what that feels like, if only in random moments, and how great that i do.

    wishing you, now, a fun holiday season. are you ready for my ho ho ho's?

    love
    kj

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  5. A happy belated Thanksgiving to you and yours, 8. I hope you were warm and well fed, surrounded by loved ones.
    xoxoxoxox

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