“Each of us is given only so many mornings to do it — to look around and love the oily fur of our…”
“Each of us is given
only so many mornings to do it —
to look around and love
the oily fur of our lives,
the hoof and the grass-stained muzzle.
Days I don’t do this
I feel the terror of idleness,
like a red thirst.
Death isn’t just an idea.”
– Mary Oliver, from “The Deer,” House of Light (via lifeinpoetry)
Reposted from http://lies.tumblr.com/post/106667225311.
Tags: i mean, excuse me, I have three books of hers, that i bought and haven't been able to read yet, because every time I start, I get about two or three poems in, and just have to stop to think about my life, and how it relates to her words, and it's a good thing, but then I'm done, and as I was reading this, I was about two or three lines in, and I knew it was her, which, given the simplicity of her language, it's lack of adornment, seems significant to me, she has a _voice_, an immediately recognizable one, it feels so personal, personal to me I mean, not that she isn't personal to vast numbers of other people, obv, but it just feels so familiar to inhabit her thoughts, just for those few lines, i have to stop and think about my life now.
