Come to the Pond

Mornings at Blackwater

~Mary Oliver

For years, every morning, I drank
from Blackwater Pond. It was flavored with oak leaves and also, no doubt,
the feet of ducks.
And always it assuaged me
from the dry bowl of the very far past.
What I want to say is
that the past is the past, and the present is what your life is,
and you are capable
of choosing what that will be,
darling citizen.
So come to the pond,
or the river of your imagination,
or the harbor of your longing,
and put your lips to the world.
And live
your life.
from Red Bird: Poems by Mary Oliver (Boston: Beacon Press, 2008), p.57.
~With a nod to Third Story Window where I read this poem in my blog wanderings this morning.  It fed my soul, so I’m sharing it with you in honor of April and National Poetry Month.
And now I’m going out on this warm afternoon in search of a pond.
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5 thoughts on “Come to the Pond

  1. This is especially lovely today. We went in search of beauty very early this morning and found it on the shore of a resevoir. My soul is well fed.
    Thank you for sharing this poem – I hadn’t read it before.

  2. don’t you just love reading a stunning line? oh, I wish writing were more a performance art sometimes! “…put your lips to the world…” ah, to dare to do so….
    Lovely, Becca.
    Thanks for this.
    And such good timing, such a lovely reminder of the “real” as I sit here exhausted on Sunday evening, silently conjuring a longer day before Monday comes knocking.

  3. This is so lovely, and so simple. The construction and images reinforce a conclusion I’ve come to recently – that poetry is very much a matter of putting one word in front of another. What that means I haven’t a clue, but I know it’s true!

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