As for the poem, not this poem but any poem, do you feel its sting? Do you feel its hope, its entrance to a community? Do you feel its hand in your hand?
Mary Oliver, from "Good Morning" in Blue Horses

Andulka

tannertan36
icyghini twinkie
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
we're not kids anymore.
EXPECTATIONS

PR's Tumblrdome
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
No title available

bliss lane
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Keni

ellievsbear
No title available

oozey mess
Misplaced Lens Cap
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

gracie abrams
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
seen from India

seen from United States

seen from Uzbekistan

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Philippines
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Brazil
seen from Saudi Arabia

seen from India
seen from United States

seen from United Arab Emirates
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from Chile

seen from Georgia
seen from Thailand
seen from Germany
seen from Russia
seen from Spain
seen from Bahrain
@delectare
As for the poem, not this poem but any poem, do you feel its sting? Do you feel its hope, its entrance to a community? Do you feel its hand in your hand?
Mary Oliver, from "Good Morning" in Blue Horses
Mary Oliver, from "Sand Dabs, Five"
My heart, like a wild spring day.
Mary Oliver, from "Little Owl that Lives in The Orchard" in Devotions: Selected Poems
I have been thinking about living like the lilies that blow in the fields.
Mary Oliver, from "Lilies" in House of Light: Poems
Mary Oliver, from “Sleeping in the forest”
Mary Oliver, from Serengeti
Mary Oliver, from "Thirst" in Devotions
DECEM-BIRD Day 18-Canada Goose (words from Wild Geese by Mary Oliver of course)
Mary Oliver, from "Moon and Water"
Mary Oliver, from "Doesn't Every Poet Write A Poem About Unrequited Love?", in Thirst
Mary Oliver, A Poetry Handbook: A Prose Guide to Understanding and Writing Poetry
Mary Oliver, "When I Am Among the Trees"
Mary Oliver, from "Peonies"
Mary Oliver, from a poem titled "When I Am Among The Trees," featured in Devotions: Poems
Softest of Mornings
by Mary Oliver
Softest of mornings, hello. And what will you do today, I wonder, to my heart? And how much honey can the heart stand, I wonder, before it must break? This is trivial, or nothing: a snail climbing a trellis of leaves and the blue trumpets of flowers. No doubt clocks are ticking loudly all over the world. I don’t hear them. The snail’s pale horns extend and wave this way and that as her fingers-body shuffles forward, leaving behind the silvery path of her slime. Oh, softest of mornings, how shall I break this? How shall I move away from the snail, and the flowers? How shall I go on, with my introspective and ambitious life?