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In Blackwater Woods Mary Oliver. Look, the trees are turning their own bodies into pillars of light, are giving off the rich fragrance of cinnamon and fulfillment, the long tapers of cattails are bursting and floating away over the blue shoulders of the ponds, and every pond, no matter what its name is, is nameless now. Your own life depends on it;
To love what is mortal; Your own life depends on it; © back bay books, 1983.
By mary oliver original language english. Look, the trees are turning their own bodies into pillars of light, are giving off the rich fragrance of cinnamon and fulfillment, the long tapers of cattails are bursting and floating away over the blue shoulders of the ponds, and every pond, no matter what its name is, is nameless now. © back bay books, 1983.
And, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go. “in blackwater woods” by mary oliver, from american primitive.
