Mary Oliver, an American poet, died yesterday at age 83. I have not read a lot of poetry. Some works I find difficult to understand, but there are many poems by Mary Oliver that I do like. I plan to reread her works. In fact, when I was looking online for information about her, I noticed one site suggested reading a poem a day by Mary Oliver. I may try that.
In the last few years I have been engaged in more poetry, especially through writings of two different friends. Just last week I went to my first poetry reading, where one of the above mentioned friends read her work, along with other poets. It was an enjoyable and enriching experience. And at times, I have dabbled in writing my own poetry.
In honor of Mary Oliver here is one poem always makes me smile (link here). It is from her book A Thousand Mornings.
“Foolishness? No, It’s Not.
Sometimes I spend all day trying to count the leaves on a single tree. To do this I have to climb branch by branch and write down the numbers in a little book. So I suppose, from their point of view, it’s reasonable that my friends say: what foolishness! She’s got her head in the clouds again.
But it’s not. Of course I have to give up, but by then I’m half crazy with the wonder of it — the abundance of the leaves, the quietness of the branches, the hopelessness of my effort. And I am in that delicious and important place, roaring with laughter, full of earth-praise.”
― Mary Oliver, A Thousand Mornings