I think
I could have
built a little house
to live in
with the single cord—
half seasoned, half not—
trucked into the
driveway and
tumbled down. But, instead,
friends came
and together we stacked it
for the long, cold days
that are—
maybe the only sure thing in the world—
coming soon.
How to keep warm
is always a problem,
isn’t it?
Of course, there’s love.
And there’s prayer.
I don’t belittle them,
and they have warmed me,
but differently,
from the heart outwards.
Imagine
what swirls of frost will cling
to the windows, what white lawns
I will look out on
as I rise from morning prayers,
as I remember love, that leaves yet never leaves,
as I go out into the yard
and bring the wood in
with struggling steps,
with struggling thoughts,
bundle by bundle,
to be burned.
by Mary Oliver, from “Thirst”
I love this poem. It’s a wonderful reminder of the value of simple things and how those things that might be difficult reveal such beauty. There’s something about hauling wood that’s deeply satisfying.
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Me, too, Teresa. I had one of those moments you seem to have where I opened “Thirst” and this poem and page revealed itself just when I needed it to. It reminds me of the simple things as well.
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Such a hush comes over me with these words and the beautiful photos, Penny. I imagine the world goes quiet? What a contrast to what I’m seeing today. I always look forward to what you can show me, my friend. I hope the weekend is as quiet and soft as you might like it to be. ox
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There is stillness and quietness that comes with snow, especially as it falls, and the crunch under one’s footfall is like no other, Debra.
We have been watching the fires there, so near to you, and I’ve been hoping all is well with your home and your wooded retreat as I pray for all those who are directly in the line of the fire. Stay safe.
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What a beautiful poem; I don’t know this one so appreciate the discovery. I love the feeling that the love and support of her friends is embedded in the wood, waiting to be unpacked, one bundle at a time, and used to give warmth. Mary Oliver always captures what really matters. Thank you Penny, and I hope you too are wrapped around with loving warmth during these cold days.
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Thank you, Juliet. I’m so glad that you could appreciate this poem, new to you. Poetry takes a while to grow into, I think. This one took no time at all for me. Mary Oliver has such an amazing gift of words and compacted emotions penning daily rituals into the core of being, at least to me.
Warm and safe here as it snows anew and the day is quite cold. Thank you.
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It is so beautiful. Mary Oliver really knows about life and what makes it worth living!
We used to cut our own wood (back in our other life in Oregon)…cut it, stack it, in the truck, take it out of the truck, stack it again, haul a week’s worth at a time from the pile to the woodbox…we were warmed many times by each load. And I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
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So many times that wood warmed you, Sallie; from the cutting to the stacking, several times over, and the warmth it provided you in Oregon. Isn’t it wondrous when we can say of hard work that we “wouldn’t have missed it for the world”?
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The memory of love seems to define this poem to me. It is a remembered love that will warm her as does the fire from the wood. But I have difficulty interpreting even the most obvious concepts in poetry and could be way off base.
As always, stay warm and safe.
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Dear Marilyn, I think you have interpreted the spirit of this poem quite wonderfully with your words of “a remembered love”. Yes. So much so. Mary Oliver’s “I remember love, that leaves yet never leaves” – to me, this is filled with love, of those gone and missed but still with us.
Thank you. It is snowing, again, and quite cold, though not as frigid as earlier this month. Safe and warm I am. Have a good weekend, Marilyn.
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Sitting here shivering even with the heat on, I can really relate to this lovely poem. Winter is cold, quiet and lonely just like the poem. The beautiful photos fit perfectly. Are those lights way beck beyond the trees on your property?
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I know what you mean, Janet. It seems to be a winter that I just can’t seem to get warm deep inside (in spite of the hot cocoa and tea). Isn’t it a wonderful poem? The lights are of a neighbor’s house across the road, taken from our front yard, on one of those especially frigid days. The lights were so warm and beckoning and me, being me, freezing in the cold going out for the mail, was imagining what it would be like seeing them on a long trek looking for shelter. Of course, these neighbors have no idea that I’ve broadcasted their lights for all the world to see.
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That is exactly the sort of thing I think about when I see lights on a cold dark night!
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Dear Penny, thank you for sharing Mary Oliver’s poem. Its hush rests softly in my being.
On Thursday I read a book you wrote about back in December–one of your annual Christmas books I think. It’s “A Highland Christmas” by M. C. Beaton. Like you, I so enjoy the Hamish Macbeth series and Agatha Raisin who is a hoot! Peace.
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It is a pleasure to share the poem, Dee (and I hope Ms Oliver doesn’t mind).
M. C. Beaton never fails to give me a chuckle, Dee. A friend and I had the pleasure of meeting her at a book signing many moons ago. She did a reading and talked about her characters, and such. I walked away feeling that a good part of her is in Agatha Raisin. Thank you for letting me know you read “A Highland Christmas”.
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What a beautiful analogy, Penny: one which means a lot to us in our new wood-burning world. Beautiful pictures too: thank you for posting this.
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I was certainly thinking of you when I posted this Mary Oliver poem, Kate, and all that wood from your forest floor gathered for your “wood-burning world”. Keep warm. Awfully cold here this morning, but, the sun is working through.
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How did I miss this post? Sorry for coming in late. This is beautiful and peaceful. It is a nice poem to read today as the sun is shining and the warmer wind is coming from the south. In a day or two the vortex or the arctic clipper or whatever they are calling it this time returns. I am enjoying the sunshine and appreciating my cozy home.
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You are never late here, Janet, and I’m always glad to see you. I love this poem and I’m pleased you find it a nice one to read on a sun shiny day, as yesterday was. It was almost balmy, wasn’t it? Alas and alack, cold is on the way again, whatever it is called. Stay warm down there.
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