For my birthday, Ed gave me A Thousand Mornings, a small collection of poems by Mary Oliver. I like her poetry. It is easy to read, not too serious. I read somewhere that her creativity is stirred by nature, and Oliver, an avid walker, often pursues inspiration on foot. I'm not a poet, but every day, on every walk, I am inspired by my observances of the natural world here at Farm Dover.
Some of her poems are so light that they remind me of the Shel Siverstein ones we read to the children when they were young. Here's one that cheered me today. It's called Green, Green is my Sister's House.
Don't you dare climb that tree
or even try, they said, or you will be
sent away to the hospital of the
very foolish, if not the other one.
And I suppose, considering my age,
it was fair advice.
But the tree is a sister to me, she
lives alone in a green cottage
high in the air and I know what
would happen, she'd clap her green hands,
she'd shake her green hair, she'd
welcome me. Truly
I try to be good but sometimes
a person just has to break out and
act like the wild and springy thing
one used to be. It's impossible not
to remember wild and want it back. So
if someday you can't find me you might
look into that tree or – of course
it's possible – under it.
- MARY OLIVER