A Meeting

She steps into the dark swamp
where the long wait ends.

The secret slippery package
drops to the weeds.

She leans her long neck and tongues it
between breaths slack with exhaustion

and after a while it rises and becomes a creature
like her, but much smaller.

So now there are two. And they walk together
like a dream under the trees.

In early June, at the edge of a field
thick with pink and yellow flowers

I meet them.
I can only stare.

She is the most beautiful woman
I have ever seen.

Her child leaps among the flowers,
the blue of the sky falls over me

like silk, the flowers burn, and I want
to live my life all over again, to begin again,

to be utterly

by Mary Oliver

Comments (6)

......very creative and imaginative...great write ★
I like this poem. It reminds me of my birth place. My birth house and all the neighboring houses are all gone away. A few years ago, I wrote a similar poem.
This is a poem essaying the decay and isolation of the deserted house on a hill. It seems as if the tattered spirit of the house is standing there for everybody to see. A painful account by all means.
The tragic situation of a house on the hill is beautifully lamented in this poem!
Quite the poem that tickles my fancy.
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