River.

IMG_2112
The River Dee. June 2015.

River

The river
Of my childhood,
That tumbled
Down a passage of rocks
And cut-work ferns,
Came here and there
To the swirl
And slowdown
Of a pool
And I say myself–
Oh, clearly–
As I knelt at one–
Then I saw myself
As if carried away,
As the river moved on.
Where have I gone?
Since then
I have looked and looked
For myself,
Not sure
Who I am, or where,
Or, more importantly, why.
It’s okay–
I have had a wonderful life.
Still, I ponder
Where that other is–
Where I landed,
What I thought, what I did,
What small or even maybe meaningful deeds
I might have accomplished
Somewhere
Among strangers,
Coming to them
As only a river can–
Touching every life it meets–
That endlessly kind, that enduring.

by Mary Oliver

IMG_2113
Yellow Water Lily (Nuphar lutea) – as identified by Ms. Raven, botanist and BF.

It is still a wonder to me how the extraordinary Mary Oliver can put into words all the sensations and remembrances that I have found so hard to express for myself. I am both awed and grateful. Reading this woman’s work is good for the soul: I think you should do it.

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