Winter's Margin
On winter’s margin, see the small birds now with half-forged memories come flocking home to gardens famous for their charity.
The green globe’s broken; vines like tangled veins hang at the entrance to the silent wood.
With half a loaf, I am the prince of crumbs;
By snow’s down, the birds amassed will sing like children for their sire to walk abroad!
But what I love, is the gray stubborn hawk who floats alone beyond the frozen vines;
And what I dream of are the patient deer who stand on legs like reeds and drink that wind; -
They are what saves the world: who choose to grow thin to a starting point beyond this squalor. - Mary Oliver
Theme: Post Process Nature
Winter's Margin
On winter’s margin, see the small birds now with half-forged memories come flocking home to gardens famous for their charity.
The green globe’s broken; vines like tangled veins hang at the entrance to the silent wood.
With half a loaf, I am the prince of crumbs;
By snow’s down, the birds amassed will sing like children for their sire to walk abroad!
But what I love, is the gray stubborn hawk who floats alone beyond the frozen vines;
And what I dream of are the patient deer who stand on legs like reeds and drink that wind; -
They are what saves the world: who choose to grow thin to a starting point beyond this squalor. - Mary Oliver
Theme: Post Process Nature