Poet Jane Hirshfield said "... the feeling I have about poem-writing (is) that it is always an exploration, of discovering something I didn't already know.  Who I am shifts from moment to moment, year to year.  What I can perceive does as well.  A new poem peers into mystery, into whatever lies just beyond the edge of knowable ground."

I bring a different poem to the writing classes each week, not only to inspire but to introduce new poets to the group members.

In the Storm by Mary Oliver

Some black ducks
were shrugged up
on the shore.
It was snowing
 
hard, from the east,
and the sea
was in disorder.
Then some sanderlings,
 
five inches long
with beaks like wire,
flew in,
snowflakes on their backs,
 
and settled
in a row
behind the ducks --
whose backs were also
 
covered with snow --
so close
they were all but touching,
they were all but under
 
the roof of the duck's tails,
so the wind, pretty much,
blew over them.
They stayed that way, motionless,
 
for maybe an hour,
then the sanderlings,
each a handful of feathers,
shifted, and were blown away
 
out over the water
which was still raging.
But, somehow,
they came back
 
and again the ducks,
like a feathered hedge,
let them
crouch there, and live.
 
If someone you didn't know
told you this,
as I am telling you this,
would you believe it?
 
Belief isn't always easy.
But this much I have learned —
if not enough else—
to live with my eyes open.
 
I know what everyone wants
is a miracle.
This wasn't a miracle.
Unless, of course, kindness—
 
as now and again
some rare person has suggested—
is a miracle.
As surely it is.
 
~ from Thirst (Beacon Press, 2006)


website contents © copyright 2017 by Sharon Singer
with the exception of 'poems of the week' where © copyright remains with the poets or their publishers