golempoem

poems, golems, poems

Mary Oliver: “Work, Sometimes”

Posted by matt on 7 May 2008

WORK, SOMETIMES

I was sad all day, and why not.  There I was, books piled
on both sides of the table, paper stacked up, words
falling off my tongue.

The robins had been a long time singing, and now it
was beginning to rain.

What are we sure of?  Happiness isn’t a town on a map,
or an early arrival, or a job well done, but good work
ongoing.  Which is not likely to be the trifling around
with a poem.

Then it began raining hard, and the flowers in the yard
were full of lively fragrance.

You have had days like this, no doubt.  And wasn’t it
wonderful, finally, to leave the room?  Ah, what a
moment!

As for myself, I swung the door open.  And there was
the wordless, singing world.  And I ran for my life.

Mary Oliver

Photo credit: Spring Rain by ImageMD

About these ads

One Response to “Mary Oliver: “Work, Sometimes””

  1. [...] is not meaningful. And in turn, how rich it can be when it is. Mary Oliver tells us in her poem, Work, Sometimes, “What are we sure of? Happiness isn’t a town on a map, or an early arrival, or a job well [...]

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

 
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 35 other followers

%d bloggers like this: