In her poem, Sometimes, Mary Oliver gives us brief instructions for living a life. She suggests we pay attention, be astonished and tell about it.
Recently, driving on Rt 17, with the river to my right and the yellowing, autumn hills on my lfe, a Great Blue Heron flew low over my car. Human beings are the only thing on earth that can hold this kind of wonder. ~ ~ ~
In one moment,
just that,
I was driving south-east
and you were flying north-west,
your S shaped neck,
your six-foot wing span,
your four-foot legs
pulled back like landing gear.
From my feeling-place
I called out and up,
"Are you the Great Blue
who wades along my cow pond,
who when I arrive
you arise,
vertically,
in a great rhythm of
wing-flap,
feathers cutting the air,
all power,
all grace?
Are you the Great Blue
who fishes
from the river rock
where my stream meets the Delaware,
and when I arrive
you arise,
leaving wet-webbed foot prints behind,
the sun bright
on your blue-gray,
or is it gray-blue?
And glider-like,
you slide through the green tunnel
upstream,
looking to restore
your solitude.
Father Stephen P. Morris
