I’ve been reading Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver in the mornings before leaving for work. Mary Oliver often wrote about loving the mornings, and it feels like an homage to read her work before the day settles into itself.
I’m also studying conclusions, as it’s been quite a struggle in my own poetry. Her poems end in such a way that they mean even more than what you thought at the beginning. That to me is the making of a good poem anyway, but her language is so layered throughout. Today I came to “That Little Beast” and thought it was an Ars Poetica about how life is funny like a dog…until the last stanza. Ah the gentle sweetness of this poem! Go off, Mary!
<3 <3 <3