Mary Oliver: Six Recognitions of the Lord

I lounge on the grass, that’s all. So

simple. Then I lie back until I am

inside the cloud that is just above me

but very high, and shaped like a fish.

Or, perhaps not. Then I enter the place

of not-thinking, not-remembering, not-

wanting. When the blue jay cries out his

riddle, in his carping voice, I return.

But I go back, the threshold is always

near. Over and back, over and back. Then

I rise. Maybe I rub my face as though I

have been asleep. But I have not been

asleep. I have been, as I say, inside

the cloud, or, perhaps, the lily floating

on the water. Then I go back to town,

to my own house, my own life, which has

now become brighter and simpler, some-

where I have never been before.

—Mary Oliver ~ seen at Whiskey River.

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