Day Four

Starlings in Winter

Chunky and noisy,
but with stars in their black feathers,
they spring from the telephone wire
and instantly

they are acrobats
in the freezing wind.
And now, in the theater of air,
they swing over buildings,

dipping and rising;
they float like one stippled star
that opens,
becomes for a moment fragmented,

then closes again;
and you watch
and you try
but you simply can’t imagine

how they do it
with no articulated instruction, no pause,
only the silent confirmation
that they are this notable thing,

this wheel of many parts, that can rise and spin
over and over again,
full of gorgeous life.

Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us,
even in the leafless winter,
even in the ashy city.
I am thinking now
of grief, and of getting past it;

I feel my boots
trying to leave the ground,
I feel my heart
pumping hard.  I want

to think again of dangerous and noble things.
I want to be light and frolicsome.
I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,
as though I had wings.

~ Mary Oliver ~

Here is another of Mary Oliver's.  She is one of my favorites.  She writes of nature, as here, using the harsh season of winter.  She writes of emotion, of grief, that harsh combatant that must be faced and gone through, as those of us who do not travel south must face winter and get through it, though we may want our boots "to leave the ground" and head for sunny places.

I find that a great way to play along with winter is to just get out and walk.  There is a trail near here that I frequent with my family.  A week ago three of us went and winter was playing hide and seek with spring!  We heard great horned owls calling to each other (They begin nesting in February)!  We saw a pair of hawks soaring high in the blue, blue sky.  Red winged blackbirds gave their cheery call.  And treasure of all treasures, we observed a pileated woodpecker finding dinner!  That was a moment to be glad of winter, because if the trees weren't bare we wouldn't be able to see it as well.