Can You imagine? A poem by Mary Oliver

©2010 charlotte hutson wrenn

Can You Imagine?
For example, what the trees do
not only in lightening storms
or the watery dark of a summer’s night
or under the white nets of winter
but now, and now, and now – whenever
we’re not looking. Surely you can’t imagine
they don’t dance, from the root up, wishing
to travel a little, not cramped so much as wanting
a better view, or more sun, or just as avidly
more shade – surely you can’t imagine they just
stand there loving every
minute of it, the birds or the emptiness, the dark rings
of the years slowly and without a sound
thickening, and nothing different unless the wind,
and then only in its own mood, comes
to visit, surely you can’t imagine
patience, and happiness, like that.

— Mary Oliver

Advertisements

I was called to be an artist. And as an old old midwife said to me "If the Lord wants you to do something, you won't have no good luck' til you do." So, here I am, sharing what I love, longing to illuminate the work of art, which is everywhere.

Tagged with: , , , , , , ,
Posted in art, beauty, Charleston South Carolina, creativity, Poetry, spirituality, travel, Writing
7 comments on “Can You imagine? A poem by Mary Oliver
  1. B says:

    In the book The Underneath trees are keepers of the stories. Trees witness much history.

  2. Sadler says:

    Very nice. Patience and happiness–if you can get to know them, two of the best friends to have. Another one by Mary Oliver:

    The Summer Day

    Who made the world?
    Who made the swan, and the black bear?
    Who made the grasshopper?
    This grasshopper, I mean–
    the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
    the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
    who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down–
    who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
    Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
    Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
    I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
    I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
    into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
    how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
    which is what I have been doing all day.
    Tell me, what else should I have done?
    Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
    Tell me, what is it you plan to do
    With your one wild and precious life?

    • Mr. Love, I do believe you have sent me one of my favorite poems by one of my favorite poets… and what a worthy question… what is it we plan to do with our one wild and precious life?

      • Sadler says:

        So glad you like it too. What to do with our time here. I can imagine John Masefield was wondering the same thing when he wrote this, one of my favorites:

        Sea Fever

        I MUST go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
        And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
        And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
        And a gray mist on the sea’s face, and a gray dawn breaking.

        I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
        Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
        And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
        And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

        I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
        To the gull’s way and the whale’s way, where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
        And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
        And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

  3. Photography by Jean Yu says:

    Reblogged this on Photography by Jean Yu.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 660 other followers

What’s this?

Welcome to my blog about the Lowcountry of South Carolina, a place proud with beauty, history and art. Sometimes we feel a call, to be, to go, to do. I was called to be an artist, and as an old midwife from Alabama said, “If the good Lord wants you to do something, you won’t have no good luck until you do it.”

So here I am writing about what I know, about the 'under glimmer' as the poet Basho, says, the way I have learned to see, to notice. I am inspired by, and talking about the history and art and culture of this place that has called me to herself. By the ancestors.

My background includes a degree in fine arts from a small private college in Florida, and before that, four years of all girls' boarding school in Asheville. I worked as a professional photographer, helped my children grow up, and now and I love seasoned things, good food, better conversation, beauty, my beloved and beautiful Italian Greyhound, Beau. Moved by the sacred places and stories of this beautiful historic land called the Lowcountry, I am here in spirit and I hope to infect you with my love of this place.

Archives
%d bloggers like this: