The tree’s invitation to ‘Stay awhile’ encourages her to pause and reflect on the bark that she sees, on the pulp she does not, on the roots and soil that nourish the tree, all of which give life to the leaves.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high … and into the faces of the tulips.

Many daily distractions take us far away from whom we really are, from that core of goodness and spirituality we sense but find elusive. In this special tribute, “The speaker of these lines is no mere nature lover who waxes rhapsodic in the presence of trees and sunlight.

and into the clouds or the hills, or the rumpled sea, and is gone--. You can die for it-- an idea, or the world. The purpose: ‘to go easy’ — walking with awareness and soft steps through the world, easy on others and the world as we hope they will be on us; ‘to be filled with light, and to shine’ — to allow the grace, light, warmth, connection that is available all around to touch us, flow through us, then shine out from us to the next. and spread it over the fields.

Or maybe the message is the mystery: We can learn from nature, but only if we don’t try to translate its branching, non-linear light into strictly human terms.”“In the final stanza, the trees again call to the poet with brief but loaded words. Poet Mary Oliver read to us of wild geese, of sudden and unexpected joy, of the shore in the morning and of speckled eggs.

What is simple? National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize-winning poet, Mary Oliver died Thursday, at age 83.If you know Mary Oliver’s writing, you probably know "The Kingfisher."

Ah to dream one is ones’ only master and there is nothing to hold one back.. ah to kiss the sun’s mouth and cry until there are rainbows everywhere…ah the simplicity of my childlike soul that coughs out of happiness and is amazed by a plastic bag caught in the wind on Columbia road.. ah not knowing, yet loving you – always. "The Real Prayers Are Not The Words, But The Attention That Comes First" Something outside us. “I think this is / the prettiest world — so long as you don't mind / a little dying, how could there be a day in your whole life / that doesn't have its splash of happiness?” They’re pretty good words to be remembered by, if you ask me. Don’t say a word. She charmed us with visions of catbirds in flight and the red-throated loon. are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers.

.

Something else must be necessary. I cannot help but feel ‘hints of gladness’ and gratitude, no matter how dire surrounding circumstances may seem, in the presence of either one — the poems or the trees. Oliver’s first collection of poems, No Voyage and Other Poems, was published in 1963, when she was 28. These are 12 poems to remember Mary Oliver by. She spoke of the poets “who feed my soul” and of deciding at age 13 that she “wanted to be a poet, along with an archeologist and ornithologist.”In 2012, Oliver was awarded an honorary Marquette degree. miserable and the crotchety –.

Here are a few more. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. .

.
Meanwhile the world goes on.


ah dreamers and dreams, where are you? She might well love trees, but hers is an informed love. Enjoying the two together is my definition of transcendence.”“The poet refers to that sensation all of us have every day, that we spend too much valuable time rushing around answering messages, checking cell phones, making appointments and generally allowing others to consume our daily hours. During the early 1980s, Oliver taught at Case Western Reserve University.

5 min read Poet Mary Oliver read to us of wild geese, of sudden and unexpected joy, of the shore in the morning and of speckled …

Her observation that ‘the trees stir in their leaves’ models how to look deeper, beyond the usual, to imagine not leaves stirring in trees but trees stirring in leaves.

Mary Oliver invokes a chorus of nature that is almost audible as the leaves stirring give voice to the trees. Why I Wake Early by Mary Oliver. and the nodding morning glories, and into the windows of, even, the. Just as the sunshine through the tree branches may cut and sparkle or warm with a softened glow, there is room to find her own way to pass on the light.”  than the way the sun, every evening, relaxed and easy, floats toward the horizon. in your life.

Blessedly incomplete.’”“Mary Oliver’s persona claims that the trees save her. Mary Oliver is an American poet who has won the National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize. But the human specialties of knowledge and feeling are not enough — almost — to save her daily. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain.

How far away, I think, is the place, the moment, when I’ll be ready to say, ‘Now — take my measure.’ It’s the heart, not the ear, that hears you say: ‘Don’t move. Hello, sun in my face. But to be saved, she must open herself to the world. best preacher that ever was, Let me look at you as you are.

We easily forget how fast life goes and how fragile it is, but one serious accident involving someone close to us reminds us of that reality in a minute. People have done so, brilliantly, letting their small bodies be bound to the stake, creating an unforgettable fury of …

She knows trees and knows that, like humans, they have different qualities and characteristics — locusts are unlike pines, pines are unlike willows, willows are unlike oaks.