Sunday, May 23, 2004
Poetry which Nourishes the Soul
The Able Poet
(for Mary Oliver)
She has won everything.
And why not.
She is skilled in her craft,
gifted like a blind
woodworker, who can polish and scale
his creations in the dark,
can tell by the feel of the surfaces
what is complete or needs
attending to.
Sometimes her expertise
takes our breath away,
the image so dazzling
we suck in an "Ah"
and inwardly lament
oh why didn't I see this
before, necessary conjunction
of the unexpected, yet
so fitting, so exact?
We read on, held and unbelieving
at the marvel of the just right,
the rare attainment
of the totally apt
like a gem curved and perfectly shaped
glinting confidently
in the circling light
with no flaws,
none at all.
copyright, Dorothy Walters
(for Mary Oliver)
She has won everything.
And why not.
She is skilled in her craft,
gifted like a blind
woodworker, who can polish and scale
his creations in the dark,
can tell by the feel of the surfaces
what is complete or needs
attending to.
Sometimes her expertise
takes our breath away,
the image so dazzling
we suck in an "Ah"
and inwardly lament
oh why didn't I see this
before, necessary conjunction
of the unexpected, yet
so fitting, so exact?
We read on, held and unbelieving
at the marvel of the just right,
the rare attainment
of the totally apt
like a gem curved and perfectly shaped
glinting confidently
in the circling light
with no flaws,
none at all.
copyright, Dorothy Walters
