All Poems
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Such Singing in the Wild Branches
© Mary Oliver
It was spring
and finally I heard him
among the first leaves -
then I saw him clutching the limb
Picking Blueberries, Austerlitz, New York,1957
© Mary Oliver
Once, in summer
in the blueberries,
I fell asleep, and woke
when a deer stumbled against me.
On Winter's Margin
© Mary Oliver
On winters margin, see the small birds now
With half-forged memories come flocking home
To gardens famous for their charity.
The green globes broken; vines like tangled veins
Hang at the entrance to the silent wood.
Have You Ever Tried to Enter the Long Black Branches
© Mary Oliver
Have you ever tried to enter the long black branches
of other lives -
tried to imagine what the crisp fringes, full of honey,
hanging
from the branches of the young locust trees, in early morning,
feel like?
Hummingbird Pauses at the Trumpet Vine
© Mary Oliver
Who doesnt love
roses, and who
doesnt love the lilies
of the black ponds
A Letter from Home
© Mary Oliver
I touch the crosses by her name;
I fold the pages as I rise,
And tip the envelope, from which
Drift scraps of borage, woodbine, rue.
Snow Geese
© Mary Oliver
Oh, to love what is lovely, and will not last!
What a task
to ask
of anything, or anyone,
Two Kinds of Deliverance
© Mary Oliver
Last night the geese came back,
slanting fast
from the blossom of the rising moon down
to the black pond. A muskrat
swimming in the twilight saw them and hurried
Daisies
© Mary Oliver
It is possible, I suppose that sometime
we will learn everything
there is to learn: what the world is, for example,
and what it means. I think this as I am crossing
One
© Mary Oliver
The mosquito is so small
it takes almost nothing to ruin it.
Each leaf, the same.
And the black ant, hurrying.
A Dream of Trees
© Mary Oliver
There is a thing in me that dreamed of trees,
A quiet house, some green and modest acres
A little way from every troubling town,
A little way from factories, schools, laments.
