Black Bears and Mary Oliver

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Mary Oliver’s poems make me swoon every time. I know this bear.

Spring

Somewhere
a black bear
has just risen from sleep
and is staring

down the mountain.
All night
in the brisk and shallow restlessness
of early spring

I think of her,
her four black fists
flicking the gravel,
her tongue

like a red fire
touching the grass,
the cold water.
There is only one question:

how to love this world.
I think of her
rising
like a black and leafy ledge

to sharpen her claws against
the silence
of the trees.
Whatever else

my life is
with its poems
and its music
and its glass cities,

it is also this dazzling darkness
coming
down the mountain,
breathing and tasting;

all day I think of her~
her white teeth,
her wordlessness,
her perfect love.

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This entry was posted in black bear, black fists, love, Mary Oliver, mountain, poems, world. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Black Bears and Mary Oliver

  1. Bevson says:

    his dazzling darknesscomingdown the mountain,breathing and tasting;This is exactly what I saw the other night. Black on black. I love this poem too.

  2. What a wonderful poem. I love the way Mary Oliver captures the essence of things.

  3. RevMomVt says:

    I have a CD of Mary Oliver reading her poetry that I am going to send you. I enjoy her as well.Love, CcPS Wasn’t that inspirational?

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