Wild Geese by Mary Oliver–another found poem

The wild geese have returned to the ponds near my home. In the fall, I wrote a poem about summer’s end which begins, The geese have left the pond. But they’re back. Oh, geese passed through much of the winter, but the geese who live here. I’m not sure how, but I recognize them–maybe because of how they seem so at home here.

It’s been a tough week–in the world and for me, too. My dad is pretty ill. They suspect it might be coronavirus. The doctor tested him, but we won’t find out for a few more days. He’s still at home, but I’m really worried about him–and my mom, too.

My walks in nature have, as always, kept me grounded and more or less centered. The wild geese have come back, and the daffodils are blooming along the Big Thompson River path.

Today when I went for my walk, I also listened to a string quartet concert by my brother and 3 other musicians, sometimes accompanied by the honking of geese. But listening to that music with the mountains in the background felt really awe-inspiring.

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

I have to drive to get to the river path (or walk 6 miles roundtrip, which is a bit much for me), so I usually only go when I’m out anyhow. That’s not all that often these days. But yesterday, I had to run an errand, so I stopped by. I hoped to find more poetry, as well as see spring unfolding. Last week’s poem, Remembering, was gone–but not forgotten. But I did find Wild Geese hanging on a post!

You can listen to the wonderful poet reading this poem herself:

and read an interview where she talks about writing it here.

It was the poem I needed to find this week–and somehow it found me!

The poem:

Wild Geese | Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting–
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Poetry Friday

This week, the second Friday of National Poetry Month, Amy Ludwig VanDer over at the Poem Farm hosts this lovely group. Check out her project for Poetry Month and see what other poets are up to–and add your own link if you want!

In the meantime, I wish you happy and safe holidays if you are celebrating this week. And wish you and yours joy and good health.

Thanks for stopping by.

xoxo