Somehow, this Christmas most of my out-of-town and some in-town folks I give gifts to received books from me of Mary Oliver’s incredible poetry. I do not know how I came to be in such a poetry mood. But I was, and I trusted that.
Then, as Christmas neared, son Brian asked me what I wanted to celebrate the feast day. And I realized I had left myself off that list. So I asked him for a book of Mary Oliver’s poetry.
He chose a slim and beautiful volume called A Thousand Mornings. Which I’ve been reading and re-reading in small chunks. What a capture-er of the moment she is.
I just flipped it open – to this passage:
One summer afternoon
I heard a looming, mysterious hum
high in the air; then came something
like a small planet flying past-
not at all interested in me but on its own
way somewhere, all anointed with excitement:
not to be held back.
Nothing could hold them back.
Is that not perfect? Can you not see them? Hear them? I can feel their wings brushing past my cheek.
Aaaahhhh. Thanks, Brian! And now he’s going to have to inscribe it to me, which he didn’t do before wrapping. It’s a mandate of mine, when you give me a book!