Thursday, May 2, 2013


by Mary Oliver

And here is the serpent again,
dragging himself out from his nest of darkness,
his cave under the black rocks,
his winter-death.
He slides over the pine needles.
He loops around the bunches of rising grass,
looking for the sun.

Well, who doesn’t want the sun after the long winter?
I step aside,
he feels the air with his soft tongue,
around the bones of his body he moves like oil,

downhill he goes
toward the black mirrors of the pond.
Last night it was still so cold
I woke and went out to stand in the yard,
and there was no moon.

So I just stood there, inside the jaw of nothing.
An owl cried in the distance,
I thought of Jesus, how he
crouched in the dark for two nights,
then floated back above the horizon.


  1. WOW. That cold belly of the night is exactly what it's like as Spring tries to resurrect...again. We had night frost a couple days ago and one wonders if the horizon will ever come?

    And now I wonder...are those your feet or Lesley's? And why don't I know for sure?

    1. They're mine, in my ancient clogs. :-) Oh, and hand made socks by Dee Dee.

    2. I hoped they were yours, Ruth...and the socks are gorgeous! Believe it or not, I kept all my clogs but haven't worn them once in the 3 years I've been here. I just can't bear to part with them. :)

    3. They're perfect for the farm, though if I really have to dig in the dirt, I wear shoes. Do you know Don has Dutch wooden clogs that Lesley got when she was there? You must have seen them. He hasn't worn them farming yet. :)


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