{Sacred Summer Forest Poetry} ....a post revisited from last Summer... a month of poetry...

Sleeping in the Forest ~ Mary Oliver

I thought the earth remembered me,

she
took me back so tenderly,

arranging
her dark skirts, her pockets
full of lichens and seeds.


I slept
as never before, a stone
on the riverbed, nothing
between me and the white fire of the stars
but my thoughts,



and they floated
light as moths among the branches
of the perfect trees.

All night
I heard the small kingdoms breathing
around me,

the insects, and the birds
who do their work in the darkness. All night
I rose and fell,

as if in water, grappling
with a luminous doom.




By morning
I had vanished at least a dozen times
into something better.

The Sun ~ Mary Oliver

Have you ever seen
anything
in your life
more wonderful

than the way the sun,
every evening,
relaxed and easy,
floats toward the horizon

and into the clouds or the hills,
or the rumpled sea,
and is gone--
and how it slides again

out of the blackness,
every morning,
on the other side of the world,
like a red flower
streaming upward on its heavenly oils,
say, on a morning in early summer,
at its perfect imperial distance--
and have you ever felt for anything
such wild love--
do you think there is anywhere, in any language,
a word billowing enough
for the pleasure
that fills you,
as the sun
reaches out,
as it warms you

as you stand there,
empty-handed--
or have you too
turned from this world--
or have you too
gone crazy
for power,
for things?
I Looked Up ~ Mary Oliver

I looked up and there it was
among the green branches of the pitchpines—

thick bird,
a ruffle of fire trailing over the shoulders and down the back—

color of copper, iron, bronze—
lighting up the dark branches of the pine.

What misery to be afraid of death.
What wretchedness, to believe only in what can be proven.

When I made a little sound
it looked at me, then it looked past me.

Then it rose, the wings enormous and opulent,

and, as I said, wreathed in fire.

Last Night While I was Sleeping ~ Antonio Machado

Last night, as I was sleeping,

I dreamt -- marvelous error!—
that a spring was breaking
out in my heart.
I said: Along which secret aqueduct,
Oh water, are you coming to me,
water of a new life
that I have never drunk?
Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt -- marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.

Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt -- marvelous error!—
that a fiery sun was giving
light inside my heart.

It was fiery because I felt
warmth as from a hearth,
and sun because it gave light
and brought tears to my eyes.

Last night, as I slept,
I dreamt -- marvelous error!—

that it was God I had
here inside my heart.