Nothing but light —
scalding, aortal light —
in which we are washed and washed out of our bones.
— Mary Oliver, from “White Owl Flies Into and Out of the Field” in “House of Light”
Notes:
- Photo: DK @ Daybreak. 5:23 am, March 11, 2021. 40° F. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT.
- Poem via Poems That I Love
- Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”
moody
It is!
Haunting and alluring! Thank you, David! Bone-washing beauty…
It is! Thanks Daniel.
5:23 a.m. Why aren’t you in bed?
That’s was an excellent question!
There’s something simultaneously evocative and eerie about fog….
Isn’t that the truth.
Such an eVocative scene! Mist does that to us. I love it. But I don’t care for fog.
Reminds me of Casablanca….Bogart should appear from the fog
Yes!
The fog and Mary Oliver always demand pause and deep listening 🙏🏻
Beautifully stated Karen. Agree.
How they go together, the owl, its movement, all quiet, the field, the day, no color yet, breaking over water, Mary Oliver contemplating death. (So glad I save these posts when I don’t have time to open them–wouldn’t want to miss this!)
Smiling. Thank you Valerie.