Tag: Mary Oliver

Filled with Light

When I am Among the Trees

by Mary Oliver 

When I am among the trees, 
especially the willows and the honey locust, 
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines, 
they give off such hints of gladness. 
I would almost say that they save me, and daily. 

I am so distant from the hope of myself, 
in which I have goodness, and discernment, 
and never hurry through the world 
but walk slowly, and bow often. 

Around me the trees stir in their leaves 
and call out, ”Stay awhile.” 
The light flows from their branches. 

And they call again, ”It's simple,” they say, 
”and you too have come 
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled 
with light, and to shine.”

Slow Steps

The Poet Dreams of the Mountain 

by Mary Oliver

Sometimes I grow weary of the days, with all their fits and starts.
I want to climb some old gray mountain, slowly, taking
the rest of my lifetime to do it, resting often, sleeping
under the pines or, above them, on the unclothed rocks.


I want to see how many stars are still in the sky
that we have smothered for years now, a century at least.
I want to look back at everything, forgiving it all,
and peaceful, knowing the last thing there is to know.


All that urgency! Not what the earth is about!
How silent the trees, their poetry being of themselves only.
I want to take slow steps, and think appropriate thoughts.
In ten thousand years, maybe, a piece of the mountain will fall.