Monday, May 31, 2010

Morning At Great Pond by Mary Oliver

One thing we did before we walked Julie's labyrinth today was to have a ceremony of blessing. At the ceremony I read Mary Oliver's poem:

It starts like this:
forks of light
slicking up out of the east,
flying over you,
and what's left of night--
it's black waterfalls,
its craven doubt--
dissolves like gravel
as the sun appears
trailing clouds
of pink and green wool,
igniting the fields,
turning the ponds
to plates of fire.
the creatures there
are dark flickerings
you make out
one by one
as the light lifts--
great blue herons,
wood ducks shaking
their shimmering crests--
and knee deep
in the purple shallows
a deer drinking:
as she turns
the silver water
crushes like silk,
shaking the sky,
and you're healed then
from the night, your heart
wants more, you're ready
to rise and look!
to hurry anywhere!
to believe in everything.

from American Primitive: Poems by Mary Oliver


  1. I loved the poem; so appropriate for your setting there. And, sorry to hear about the lake level being so low from the drought but interested that Julie decided on this project; a great idea. Glad you are safely up at the cabin.

  2. And just to be a bit silly, I had the sudden mental picture of swimming the labyrinth should the water get back to its usual depth.