Owl Thoughts

This sight greeted me today, in the quiet of a Sunday afternoon. I keep seeing the eyes of this beautiful, majestic bird. In my head, heart, and soul, I keep hearing the imagery of one of my favorite poems of Mary Oliver. Sharing both as tonight’s small point of light…

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“White Owl Flies Into and Out of the Field”
By Mary Oliver

Coming down out of the freezing sky
with its depths of light,
like an angel, or a Buddha with wings,
it was beautiful, and accurate,
striking the snow and whatever was there
with a force that left the imprint
of the tips of its wings — five feet apart —
and the grabbing thrust of its feet,
and the indentation of what had been running
through the white valleys of the snow —
and then it rose, gracefully,
and flew back to the frozen marshes
to lurk there, like a little lighthouse,
in the blue shadows —
so I thought:
maybe death isn’t darkness, after all,
but so much light wrapping itself around us —
as soft as feathers —
that we are instantly weary of looking, and looking,
and shut our eyes, not without amazement,
and let ourselves be carried,
as through the translucence of mica,
to the river that is without the least dapple or shadow,
that is nothing but light — scalding, aortal light —
in which we are washed and washed
out of our bones.

About harasprice

Social worker, professor, seminarian in The Episcopal Church, student, parent, teacher, writer, advocate, and grateful traveller along this journey through life
This entry was posted in Poetry and verse, quotations and reflections and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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