At Great Pond

At Great Pond

the sun, rising,

scrapes his orange breast

on the thick pines,

  and down tumble

a few orange feathers into

the dark water.

On the far shore a

  white bird is standing

like a white candle…

or a man, in the distance,

in the clasp of some meditation…

  while all around me the lilies

are breaking open again

from the black cave

of the night.

Later, I will consider

what I have seen…

what it could signify…

what words of adoration I might

  make of it, and to do this

I will go indoors to my desk…

I will sit in my chair…

I will look back

  into the lost morning

 in which I am moving, now, l

ike a swimmer,

so smoothly,

  so peacefully,

I am almost the lily…

almost the bird vanishing over the water

on its sleeves of light.

~ Mary Oliver ~ West Wind ~

Did we sleep long? Is it this life still, or

is it the next life, already? Are we gone, then?

Are we there?

 ~ Mary Oliver ~