my birthday present

my birthday present
My awesome birthday present 1/26/11 (see story under my first post)

Sunday, December 2, 2012

The Gift of Snow



  We  will doubtless soon be dealing with a substantial snowfall This poem should help it seem like a blessing rather than a curse.

White-Eyes

Mary Oliver

In winter
    all the singing is in
         the tops of the trees
              where the wind-bird
with its white eyes
    shoves and pushes
         among the branches.
              Like any of us
he wants to go to sleep,
    but he's restless—
         he has an idea,
              and slowly it unfolds
from under his beating wings
    as long as he stays awake
         But his big, round music, after all,
             is too breathy to last.
So, it's over.
    In the pine-crown
         he makes his nest,
              he's done all he can.
I don't know the name of this bird,
    I only imagine his glittering beak
         tucked in a white wing
              while the clouds—
which he has summoned
    from the north—
         which he has taught
              to be mild, and silent—
thicken, and begin to fall
    into the world below
         like stars, or the feathers
              of some unimaginable bird
that loves us,
    that is asleep now, and silent—
         that has turned itself
              into snow.

1 comment:

marie-jo said...

Mary Oliver describes very well the ambiguous feelings that the arrival of winter can provoke. It can be a cozy, even magical season. At least, seen from the comfort of home. But step outside and you may get another story. On a personal note, I must say that for the first time in a long time, I am developing a friendly relationship with cold weather and the night, when I go outside to walk Colette and Simone. This (lets not mention the 30+ years I have lived in this region) helps me connect with the poem, I am sure.