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I brought down the trash last evening and sat in my RAV for a few minutes to let the battery charge up. Getting out I felt my love for the RAV and my longing to go somewhere with it, live in it for a while again. And then I walked the perimeter of the parking lot. It didn't matter that it's a parking lot filled with cars and dumpsters, because there was all the pink and the baby blue and the slate blue—everywhere, except in the west. There the gold and the tangerine. The sky. So I walked backwards for a while to joy in the sundown there. And the granite upthrusts of the mountains were dusky rose, and I felt so blessed to be here, to witness this unbearable beauty. And people moving in their cars through the lot waved to me and that, too, was a blessing.



~ Mary Oliver from New and Selected Poems: Volume I


Have you ever seen


in your life

more wonderful


than the way the sun,

every evening,

relaxed and easy,

floats toward the horizon


and into the clouds or the hills,

or the rumpled sea,

and is gone—

and how it slides again


out of the blackness,

every morning,

on the other side of the world,

like a red flower


streaming upward on its heavenly oils,

say, on a morning in early summer,

at its perfect imperial distance—

and have you ever felt for anything


such wild love—

do you think there is anywhere, in any language,

a word billowing enough

for the pleasure


that fills you,

as the sun

reaches out

as it warms you


as you stand there,


or have you too

turned from this world—


or have you too

gone crazy

for power,

for things?

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