When my children were young, we enjoyed an educational program called Learning Language Arts through Literature. We each copied portions of our favorite author's writing into composition books then studied the writing style, grammar, and story content. I challenged myself, along with them, to write imitating the author.
I still love this exercise; still adore Mary Oliver's poetry. So today, for fun on this chilly, rainy day, I imitate the great poet...
My Version:
Ordinarily, I go down to the creek alone, with not a single companion, for they are often extrovert talkers, or sniffing, pawing, straining canine hunters and therefore unsuitable.
I don’t really want to be interrupted or seen laughing with flickers, kneeling on moss, dancing below giant sycamores, gathering
stones for yet another cairn. I have my way of praying,
as you have yours.
Besides, when I am alone, my thoughts quiet. My soul hears
the running of sap, flow of water, wing-beat of doves. I can sit on a rock, as motionless as the
fragrant cedars nearby, until the deer enter the grove unconcerned.
My soul hears the sleepy song of tucked- in bulbs
and rustling chipmunks, all softly alive, gently thriving, waiting for bursts of ardent spring!
If you have
ever gone down to the creek with me, I must love you very much.
The Exquisite Oliver Version:
Ordinarily, I go to the woods alone, with not a single
friend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore
unsuitable.
friend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore
unsuitable.
I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds
or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my way of
praying, as you no doubt have yours.
or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my way of
praying, as you no doubt have yours.
Besides, when I am alone I can become invisible. I can sit
on the top of a dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds,
until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can hear the almost
unhearable sound of the roses singing.
on the top of a dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds,
until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can hear the almost
unhearable sound of the roses singing.
If you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love
you very much. ― Mary Oliver
you very much. ― Mary Oliver
"Autumn Fern" debsgarden.squarespace.com |
No comments:
Post a Comment