japonisme: bright dust

23 February 2009

bright dust


The poppies send up their
orange flares; swaying
in the wind, their congregations
are a levitation

of bright dust, of thin
and lacy leaves.
There isn't a place
in this world that doesn't

sooner or later drown
in the indigos of darkness,
but now, for a while,
the roughage

shines like a miracle
as it floats above everything
with its yellow hair.
Of course nothing stops the cold,

black, curved blade
from hooking forward—
of course
loss is the great lesson.

But I also say this: that light
is an invitation
to happiness,
and that happiness,

when it's done right,
is a kind of holiness,
palpable and redemptive.
Inside the bright fields,

touched by their rough and spongy gold,
I am washed and washed
in the river
of earthly delight—

and what are you going to do—
what can you do
about it—
deep, blue night?

Mary Oliver

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Anonymous Anonymous said...

marvelous, the poppies, the poem... I could have used it for my summer fields series, too - who can resist taking pictures of poppies? :-)

23 February, 2009 12:08  
Blogger lotusgreen said...

i wonder what you'd think of our california poppies (painted here by granville redmond.

23 February, 2009 12:59  
Blogger belvedere beads said...

poppies, sigh.

27 February, 2009 13:00  
Blogger lotusgreen said...

sigh... yeah.... :^)

27 February, 2009 17:11  

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