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September 10, 2005

Some Things, Say The Wise Ones — by Mary Oliver

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Some things, say the wise ones who know everything,
are not living. I say,
You live your life your way and leave me alone.

I have talked with the faint clouds in the sky when they
are afraid of being behind; I have said, Hurry, hurry!
and they have said, Thank you, we are hurrying.

About cows, and starfish, and roses there is no
argument. They die, after all.

But water is a question, so many living things in it,
but what is it itself, living or not? Oh, gleaming

generosity, how can they write you out?

As I think this I am sitting on the sand beside
the harbor. I am holding in my hand
small pieces of granite, pyrite, schist.
Each one, just now, so thoroughly asleep.
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Coral

September 10, 2005 at 02:01 PM | Permalink


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Comments

thanks so much for posting this poem...i have been searching for it online...ah, found it! thanks!

Posted by: misty | Jul 19, 2008 1:11:00 PM

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