Monday, September 2, 2024

August (Monday Poem)

 by Mary Oliver


When the blackberries hang
swollen in the woods, in the brambles
nobody owns, I spend

all day among the high
branches, reaching
my ripped arms, thinking

of nothing, cramming
the black honey of summer
into my mouth; all day my body

accepts what it is. In the dark
creeks that run by there is
this thick paw of my life darting among

the black bells, the leaves; there is
this happy tongue.


from Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver, by Mary Oliver
Penguin Random House, 2017

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