Have you read Mary Oliver? Her poems are beautiful and real and full of nature. She is not stuffy or stickler about rhythm or sending you rushing for a dictionary. Her poems are like rain in spring and wind in fall – invigorating and life-giving. You can read several here.
In the meantime, I have one to share. This poem aptly described my day (many of my days!) and I thought it might resonate with some of you. Much as I love my writing and books and good job, some days I long to be back in the mountains, running and hiking and living practically outdoors. What about you?
I was sad all day, and why not. There I was, books piled
on both sides of the table, paper stacked up, words
falling off my tongue.
The robins had been a long time singing, and now it
was beginning to rain.
What are we sure of? Happiness isn’t a town on a map,
or an early arrival, or a job well done, but good work
ongoing. Which is not likely to be the trifling around
with a poem.
Then it began raining hard, and the flowers in the yard
were full of lively fragrance.
You have had days like this, no doubt. And wasn’t it
wonderful, finally, to leave the room? Ah, what a
As for myself, I swung the door open. And there was
the wordless, singing world. And I ran for my life.