On this Sunday inauguration eve, all day long, intermittently, as I go about the things I do, I’ve been thinking of a Mary Oliver poem. As I’ve written before, a friend has been sending me a poem each day that she reads aloud in her voice as clear as winter wind. Mid-January, Vermont, is the season both of winter settling in for the long haul and, conversely, as life often is, of lengthening days. We seek the merest brightening of the light as proof of spring’s promise. In her recording, my friend mentions seeing the division of seed packets in farm store, solid evidence of spring’s inevitability.
Later, just before twilight filters in, I walk out alone, tromping the short path through the woods and cemetery to the upper edge of the village. A few flakes of snow twirl. Otherwise, no one. My boots crunch over hard, packed snow. My mind is jammed with its usual monologue, when suddenly I realize my euphoria at walking along this wide road, flanked by white pines with broken branches, a single crow winging its way over the snowy Little League field. Yes, yes. I’ve forgotten my mittens, and my hands knotted in my coat pockets throb with cold, and yet I keep chortling like a mad woman, Yes and yes and yes.
Like any writer, I’m quite capable of running wildly with words, but as for the politics and national people, I’ll simply leave Mary Oliver’s words from her poem “Work, Sometimes.”
… What are we sure of? Happiness isn’t a town on a map,
or an early arrival, or a job well done, but good work
ongoing. Which is not likely to be the trifling around
with a poem.Then it began raining hard, and the flowers in the yard
were full of lively fragrance.You have had days like this, no doubt…. Ah, what a
moment!As for myself, I swung the door open. And there was
the wordless, singing world. And I ran for my life.
Stony Soil Vermont 
Yes. Beautiful ❤️
❤️
Thank goodness for the wordless, singing world!
And for Mary Oliver’s always perfect poems.
❤️Mary Oliver!
Ran toward the world as if into an embrace? Thanks Brett for sharing your thoughts and feelings. Cheers, Randy Bulpin
Thank you for reading, Randy!
Great to read that you’re heading out by yourself. Congratulations.
💛
My favorite poet, and these words are profoundly beautiful.
Mary Oliver. 🩵
Love that poem! Glad you are able to be out enjoying the sunshine. Millicent Flakehttp://www.maflake.com 706-260-8665
Glad you love this poem!
Yes, a strange day indeed. I realized this morning that it has been almost exactly a hundred years since another despot began the many Trails of Tears. In spite of that, we had enough snow overnight to brighten the world.
I have been reading Seamus Heaney’s letters, including his thoughts during the “Troubles”. I did not consciously begin reading the letters last evening, and yet they are in some ways perfect.
I am glad you are out walking. There is nothing quite like a walk in Vermont winter.
Strange coincidence at that 100 year mark… On an entirely different note, there is nothing like a winter’s walk.
I see a need to write a blog that you might enjoy about Florida sunshine opportunities. Stay tuned.`
Will remain tuned….
The writing of Mary Oliver and you, Brett Ann Stanciu, will sustain us through the next four years!
🩵