By Mary Oliver

All night
the dark buds of dreams
open
richly.

In the center
of every petal
is a letter,
and you imagine

if you could only remember
and string them all together
they would spell the answer.
It is a long night,

and not an easy one –
you have so many branches,
and there are diversions –
birds that come and go,

the black fox that lies down
to sleep beneath you,
the moon staring
with her bone-white eye.

Finally you have spent
all the energy you can
and you drag from the ground
the muddy skirt of your roots

and leap awake
with two or three syllables
like water in your mouth
and a sense

of loss – a memory
not yet of a word
certainly not the answer –
only how it feels

when deep in the tree
all the locks click open,
and the fire surges through the wood,
and the blossoms blossom.

~~~~~~~~~

From Dream Work by Mary Oliver

Like this Article? Please share:

Share on facebook
Share on twitter
Share on linkedin
Share on pinterest
Share on email

You may also enjoy these:

American Flag
Poetry

Protest

To sin by silence, when we should protest, Makes cowards out of men. The human race Has climbed on protest. Had no voice been raised

Read More »
Poetry

Raspberry

By Kim Hansen  Oh blistered gem of delicate weight, ruby red and alive. Oh mandala of bumps, perfectly replicating your patterns right into my soul mouth.

Read More »

1 thought on ““Dreams””

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.