It is a full moon. The giant orb hangs in the sky like a white marble on a blue-black velvet backdrop. It casts a shimmering glow on the expanse of snow. It is beautiful, making a night that moves an artistic soul to painting a picture, writing a song, penning a poem. On night’s like this I remember the line from the romantic ballad, I’ll Be Seeing You. The line says, “I’ll be looking at the moon, but I’ll be seeing you.”
This week the wonderful American poet Mary Oliver died. She has penned volumes of beautiful poetry. Much of her writing focused on the beauty and wonder of creation. Her poems focused on things as small as a grasshopper and as grand as the landscape. She wrote so beautifully of nature in words simple and profound. In her poem, Wild Geese, she includes these words,
“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”
My mother and my husband were each able to recite poetry by memory. They grew up in eras when memorization was part of the school curriculum and learning to appreciate and memorize poetry was required. I wish my era had held such a standard. I cannot recite poetry even though bits and strands of poetic words come to me now and again. Mostly, I am moved when someone else shares the words written by a poetic soul.
In her poem, The Summer Day, Mary Oliver ends with this haunting and eternal question:
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?”
Thank you, Mary, for spending your life by bringing the beauty and power of word and idea to us.
