Thursday, March 19, 2009

Worm Moon

Mary Oliver
In March the earth remembers its own name.
Everywhere the plates of snow are cracking.
The rivers begin to sing.
In the skythe winter stars are sliding away;
new starsappear as, later, small blades of grainwill shine in the dark fields.
And the name of every placeis joyful.

The season of curiosity is everlasting and the hour for adventure never ends,
but tonighteven the men who walked upon the moon
are lying contentby open windows
where the winds are sweeping over the fields,
over water,over the naked earth,into villages,
and lonely country houses, and the vast cities

because it is spring;
because once more the moon and the earth are eloping
--a love match that will bring forth fantastic children
who will learn to stand, walk, and finally
run over the surface of earth;who will believe,
for years,that everything is possible.

Born of clay,how shall a man be holy;
born of water,how shall a man visit the stars;
born of the seasons,
how shall a man live forever?

Soonthe child of the red-spotted newt,
the eft,will enter his life from the tiny egg.
On his delicate leg she will run through
the valleys of mossdown to the leaf mold by the streams,
where lately white snow lay upon the earthlike
a deep and lustrous blanketof moon-fire,

and probably
is possible.

And yes, YES, the equalness of day and Night most often at this time of year known to us as Spring Equinox has arrived; unless of course you live at the equator. Then you are still waiting.

Thank you for sharing AW

No comments:

Post a Comment