One More Mary Oliver Monday
In Praise of Craziness, of a Certain Kind by Mary Oliver
On cold evenings
my grandmother,
with ownership of half her mind–
the other half having flown back to Bohemia–
spread newspapers over the porch floor
so, she said, the garden ants could crawl beneath,
as under a blanket, and keep warm,
and what shall I wish for, for myself,
but, being so struck by the lightning of years,
to be like her with what is left, that loving.
(image from: A Whole World, by Couprie and Louchard)