A poem for a snowy April 3...
It's SNOWING! It's April 3rd, and it's snowing! This shouldn't surprise me; I had planned a big bash for my 30th birthday on April 16, 2007, and we had to cancel it due to an icy-sleety-snowy-mess falling from the sky. April in New England means snow, rain, snow in the morning then 55 degrees in the afternoon like yesterday...you get the idea. So in honor of April's weird weather issues, I give you this poem by Mary Oliver.
White-Eyes
White-Eyes
By Mary Oliver
In winter
all the singing is in
the tops of the trees
where the wind-bird
with its white eyes
shoves and pushes
among the branches.
Like any of us
he wants to go to sleep,
but he's restless—
he has an idea,
and slowly it unfolds
from under his beating wings
as long as he stays awake.
But his big, round music, after all,
is too breathy to last.
So, it's over.
In the pine-crown
he makes his nest,
he's done all he can.
I don't know the name of this bird,
I only imagine his glittering beak
tucked in a white wing
while the clouds—
which he has summoned
from the north—
which he has taught
to be mild, and silent—
thicken, and begin to fall
into the world below
like stars, or the feathers
of some unimaginable bird
that loves us,
that is asleep now, and silent—
that has turned itself
into snow.
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