The poem was made not just to exist, but to speak — to be company. It was everything that was needed, when everything was needed. - Mary Oliver

to live in this world

you must be able
to do three things
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go

It's true, isn't it,
in our world,
that the petals pooled with nectar, and the polished thorns
are a single thing-
that the petals pooled with nectar, and the polished thorns
are a single thing-
that even the purest light, lacking the robe of darkness,
would be without expression-
that love itself, without pain, would be
no more than a shrug gable comfort.

"Last Night the Rain Spoke to Me"

Last night
the rain
spoke to me
slowly, saying,

what joy
to come falling
out of the brisk cloud,
to be happy again

in a new way
on the earth!
That’s what it said
as it dropped,

smelling of iron,
and vanished
like a dream of the ocean
into the branches

and the grass below.
Then it was over.
The sky cleared.
I was standing

under a tree.
The tree was a tree
with happy leaves,
and I was myself,

and there were stars in the sky
that were also themselves
at the moment,
at which moment

my right hand
was holding my left hand
which was holding the tree
which was filled with stars

and the soft rain — imagine! imagine!
the wild and wondrous journeys
still to be ours.