White-Eyes
by Mary Oliver
In winter
all the singing is in
the tops of the trees
where the wind-bird
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
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
but he's restless—
he has an idea,
and slowly it unfolds
The rest is here.
Poetry Friday is hosted today at Random Noodling
Oh, wow, that is a beautiful poem--that last stanza. Wow.
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing this one, Sara.
Gisele
Ah. Contented sigh. So beautiful. Do you know which collection of hers it comes from, by chance?
ReplyDeleteLovely choice. It called to mind for me images of totems and artwork for the Thunderbird. Not at the start, where it was a smaller, greyer bird that came to mind, but later.
ReplyDeleteThanks for posting it on this cold, windy day.
What a lovely image of the wind. The wind that rocks the tree outside my window, and frightens my children, and makes me think of ice. Really it's a great bird that loves us to sleep... dropping downy feathers. Sweet.
ReplyDeletePerfect day for that poem (it's 20 degrees here).
ReplyDeleteThe coldness here in the NW makes it a perfect fit. Thank you. I love Mary Oliver.
ReplyDeleteJules, the permissions link at Poetry 180 says it comes from POETRY magazine. I don't know if it appears in collection.
ReplyDeleteWhat I love is how slowly this poem unfolds, and how blessed I feel at the end of it.
Hi, it's a very great blog.
ReplyDeleteI could tell how much efforts you've taken on it.
Keep doing!
It is published in her collection which I think is called "Why I Wake" or something close to that.
ReplyDelete