Sunday morning and mellow as precious metal
The church bells rang, but I went
To the woods instead.
A fawn, too new
For fear, rose from the grass
And stood with its spots blazing,
And knowing no way but words,
No trick but music,
I sang to him.
He listened.
His small hooves struck the grass.
Oh what is holiness?
The fawn came closer,
Walked to my hands, to my knees.
I did not touch him.
I only sang, and when the doe came back
Calling out to him dolefully
And he turned and followed her into the trees,
Still I sang,
Not knowing how to end such a joyful text,
Until far off the bells once more tipped and tumbled
And rang through the morning, announcing
The going forth of the blessed.
-- Mary Oliver from Twelve Moons
5 comments:
LOVE this poem. We have deer in our yard and the fawns always amaze me. Oliver captures the moment so beautifully.
Did you know she's ill and has had to cancel her public appearances, etc.?
Attended a Mary Oliver reading in 2010 -- wonderful, no surprise. Sorry to hear she's ill.
This is a lovely poem of hers. What is holiness, indeed.
One of my biggest regrets is that I did not make the trip up to Smith College to hear Oliver read - my daughter (a Smithie then) went anyway and came back rhapsodic. Oliver has such reverence for nature - her poems are works of such beauty....and I did not know that she was ill, how sad.
Just lovely. It brought tears to my eyes.
Mary Oliver really captures the moement!
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