Hope Rising

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

A favorite.

Makes me think of fall every time I read it...


At Blackwater Pond

At Blackwater Pond the tossed waters have settled
after a night of rain.
I dip my cupped hands. I drink
a long time. It tastes
like stone, leaves, fire. It falls cold
into my body, waking the bones. I hear them
deep inside me, whispering
oh what is this beautiful thing 
that just happened?
Mary Oliver

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