Monday, 12 February 2018

Day 7. The Pond by Mary Oliver.

One Summer
I went every morning
To the edge of a pond where
A huddle of just-hatched geese
Would paddle to me
And clamber
Up the marshy slope
And over my body
Peeping and staring-
Such sweetness every day
Which the grown up ones watched,
For whatever reason,
Serenely.
Not there, however, but here
Is when the story begins.
Nature has so many mysteries
Some of the severe.
Five of the geese grew
Heavy of chest and
Bold of wing
While the sixth waited and waited
In its gauze-feathers, its body
That would not grow
And how it was fail
And this is what I think
Everything is all about
The way I was glad
For the five and two
That flew away,
And the way I hold the two in my heart the wingless one

That had to stay.

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