28 Oct
Posted in: Poems
By    Comments Off on Patience Comes to the Bones

Patience Comes to the Bones

Last week I posted (here) about realizing that the attribute of patience is….well, let me just say: not my strong suit.

I’ve been especially aware of this lately….as all of a sudden it seems, I’ve been deluged with projects/tasks/responsibilities….several which appear to me in states of quasi-crisis.

The result of which is that I haven’t been posting as frequently as I would like.

Even now, as I’m typing, I feel the need to rush.


I take a deep breath.

And offer this for today:

by Mary Oliver

What is the good life now? Why,
look here, consider
the moon’s white crescent

rounding, slowly, over
the half month to still another
perfect circle–

the shining eye
that lightens the hills,
that lays down the shadows

of the branches of the trees,
that summons the flowers
to open their sleepy faces and look up

into the heavens.
I used to hurry everywhere,
and leaped over the running creeks.

There wasn’t
time enough for all the wonderful things
I could think of to do

in a single day. Patience
comes to the bones
before it takes root in the heart

as another good idea.
I say thins
as I stand in the woods

and study the patterns
of the moon shadows,
or stroll down into the waters

that now, late summer, have also
caught the fever, and hardly move
from one eternity to another. 



Comments are closed.