A lovely poem

Tomorrow morning, bright and early, I fly to New Mexico and live at Ghost Ranch for a week--my ninth trip to that beguiling place. Not much time for blog writing, so I decided to post one of my favorite Mary Oliver poems.

"Heron Rises From The Dark, Summer Pond"

by Mary Oliver

So heavy
is the long-necked, long-bodied heron,
always it is a surprise
when her smoke-colored wings
open
and she turns
from the thick water,
from the black sticks

of the summer pond,
and slowly
rises into the air
and is gone.

Then, not for the first or the last time,

I take the deep breath
of happiness, and I think
how unlikely it is

that death is a hole in the ground,
how improbable
that ascension is not possible,
though everything seems so inert, so nailed
back into itself —
the muskrat and his lumpy lodge,
the turtle,
the fallen gate

And especially it is wonderful

that the summers are so long

and the ponds so dark and so many,

and therefore it isn't a miracle

but the common thing,
this decision,
this trailing of the long legs in the water,
this opening up of the heavy body

into a new life: see how the sudden
gray-blue sheets of her wings
strive toward the wind; see how the clasp of nothing
takes her in.

On this beautiful autumn day, I wish you well and pray for us all to have deep joy and peace!

Why those two lines persist in being so large, I have no idea.