I have been in love more times than one,
thank the Lord. Sometimes it was lasting
whether active or not. Sometimes
it was all but ephemeral, maybe only
an afternoon, but not less real for that.
They stay in my mind, these beautiful people,
or anyway people beautiful to me, of which
there are so many. You, and you, and you,
whom I had the fortune to meet, or maybe
missed. Love, love, love it was the
core of my life, from which, of course, comes
the word for the heart. And, oh, have I mentioned
that some of them were men and some were women
and some—now carry my revelation with you–
were trees. Or places. Or music flying above
the names of their makers. Or clouds, or the sun
which was the first, and the best, and the most
loyal for certain, who looked so faithfully into
my eyes, every morning. So I imagine
such love of the world–its fervency, its shining, its
innocence and hunger to give of itself–I imagine
this is how it began.
Of Love. By Mary Oliver.
from her book, Red Bird
thanks for the lovely poem.
You are welcome. Thank you for having eyes to see and ears to hear such beauty:)
Always happy memories of you and your family
Charlotte, I tried to email you on your old email address and it was returned. This is your cousin Mark from Atlanta. I’m living in Savannah now during the week and go to Atlanta most weekends. Sort of a drag after two years.
How time flies! You may not remember me but we emailed back and forth several times a couple of years ago—I sent you a cd with pix of the Hay family graves near Barnwell SC. Sorry to have been such a dud of a correspondent!
Just wanted to tell you that I really enjoy this blog! I love Edisto and the Lowcountry so much. Hope you are well and hope to hear from you. Take care!
Mark! I trust this finds you. I have not been to Atlanta since March, wildly, but will be there in November. I would love to see you. How are you? Do hope all is well! Cheers, Cousin Charlotte
Great poet, that Mary Oliver. I love how you appreciate her. And how you taught me about her. xoxo