Poetry of Mary Oliver

Forgive Me

Angels are wonderful yet they are so, well, aloof. It’s what I sense in the mud and the roots of the trees, or the well, or the barn, or the rock with its citron map of lichen that halts my feet and makes my eyes flare, feeling the presence of some spirit, some small god, who abides there.

If I were a perfect person, I would be bowing continuously.

I’m not though I pause wherever I feel this holiness, which is why I’m often so late coming back from wherever I went.

Forgive me.

Mary Oliver

This poem is exactly how I feel about this beautiful place that I live. The first time I read this poem it brought me to tears. I thought, there is someone out there who feels exactly the same way I do. Thinking about it now I imagine there are many someones out there who feel this way.

In the country the sky is big, the view is long and the magic is never ending. I am so thankful. I too feel like I should be bowing continuously.