Ms. Oliver's Ache
At these powerful moments she recedes,
drawing attention to a pond miles away-
a deer drinking, a flower opening, a blackberry growing.
...
Yet there she appears, the berry
staining her teeth, its bush scraping her arm,
falling asleep in a field while observing the moon,
awakened by the soft nuzzle of the doe.
__
She offers the call of wild geese in a blue sky,
I wonder,
gathering up armfuls of blossoming swan feathers,
how her back, knees must ache from the stillness,
the waiting just for watching,
an entire night for a singular image,
a handful of lines! Or
perhaps they are kept lithe from the dancing
of her mind resting on the rock as the deer nears.