Is the soul solid, like iron?
Or is it tender and breakable, like
the wings of a moth in the beak of the owl?
Who has it, and who doesn't?
I keep looking around me.
The face of the moose is as sad
as the face of Jesus.
The swan opens her white wings slowly.
In the fall, the black bear carries leaves into the darkness.
One question leads to another.
Does it have a shape? Like an iceberg?
Like the eye of a hummingbird?
Does it have one lung, like the snake and the scallop?
Why should I have it, and not the anteater
who loves her children?
Why should I have it, and not the camel?
Come to think of it, what about the maple trees?
What about the blue iris?
What about all the stones, sitting alone in the moonlight?
What about roses, and lemons, and their shining leaves?
What about the grass?
~"Some Questions You Might Ask" by Mary Oliver ~
I just ordered the best little gem ever: House of Light by Mary Oliver
Each poem is like a piece of sunshine in the palm of my hands. I gasp and close the pages once I've read one poem, holding the book to my chest, amazed.