Loading ...
Sorry, an error occurred while loading the content.

(Panhala) Almost a Conversation by Mary Oliver

Expand Messages
  • wdestiny44@aol.com
    Almost a Conversation I have not really, not yet, talked with otter about his life. He has so many teeth, he has trouble with vowels. Wherefore our
    Message 1 of 2 , Nov 2, 2009
    • 0 Attachment
      Almost a Conversation
       
      I have not really, not yet, talked with otter
      about his life.
       
      He has so many teeth, he has trouble
      with vowels.
       
      Wherefore our understanding
      is all body expression —
       
      he swims like the sleekest fish,
      he dives and exhales and lifts a trail of bubbles.
      Little by little he trusts my eyes
      and my curious body sitting on the shore.
       
      Sometimes he comes close.
      I admire his whiskers
      and his dark fur which I would rather die than wear.
       
      He has no words, still what he tells about his life
      is clear.
      He does not own a computer.
      He imagines the river will last forever.
      He does not envy the dry house I live in.
      He does not wonder who or what it is that I worship.
      He wonders, morning after morning, that the river
      is so cold and fresh and alive, and still
      I don't jump in.
       
      ~ Mary Oliver ~
       
      (Evidence)
       
       
       
      Web archive of Panhala postings: www.panhala.net/Archive/Index.html
       
      To subscribe to Panhala, send a blank email to Panhala-subscribe@yahoogroups.com
    • coronaborealis444
      Almost a Conversation I have not really, not yet, talked with otter about his life. He has so many teeth, he has trouble with vowels. Wherefore our
      Message 2 of 2 , Mar 1, 2013
      • 0 Attachment

        Almost a Conversation
         
        I have not really, not yet, talked with otter
        about his life.
         
        He has so many teeth, he has trouble
        with vowels.
         
        Wherefore our understanding
        is all body expression —
         
        he swims like the sleekest fish,
        he dives and exhales and lifts a trail of bubbles.
        Little by little he trusts my eyes
        and my curious body sitting on the shore.
         
        Sometimes he comes close.
        I admire his whiskers
        and his dark fur which I would rather die than wear.
         
        He has no words, still what he tells about his life
        is clear.
        He does not own a computer.
        He imagines the river will last forever.
        He does not envy the dry house I live in.
        He does not wonder who or what it is that I worship.
        He wonders, morning after morning, that the river
        is so cold and fresh and alive, and still
        I don't jump in.
         
        ~ Mary Oliver ~ 
        (Evidence)
         
         
        Web archive of Panhala postings: www.panhala.net/Archive/Index.html
         
        To subscribe to Panhala, send a blank email to Panhala-subscribe@yahoogroups.com
      Your message has been successfully submitted and would be delivered to recipients shortly.