Wednesday, February 18, 2009


From a single grain they have multiplied.
When you look in the eyes of one
You have seen them all.
At the edges of highways
They pick at limp things.
They are anything but refined.
Or they fly out over the corn
Like pellets of black fire,
Like overlords.
Crow is crow, you say.
What else is there to say?
Drive down any road,
Take a train or an airplane
Across the world, leave
Your old life behind,
Die and be born again -
Wherever you arrive
They'll be there first,
Glossy and rowdy
And indistinguishable.
The deep muscle of the world.
—Mary Oliver
I love Mary Oliver! Last night I was watching an old Ingmar Bergman film and noted the Ravens in Sweden, and it got me wondering if they were on every continent, ever present and it sparked a memory of this poem and I searched and found it.
I love how the ravens accompany me on my cross country ski outings and walks and canoe glides...they are always there and somehow comforting to me.

No comments:

Post a Comment