How I Go to the Woods
“Ordinarily, I go to the woods alone, with not a single friend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore unsuitable.
I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my way of praying, as you no doubt have yours.
Besides, when I am alone I can become invisible. I can sit on the top of a dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds, until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can hear the almost unhearable sound of the roses singing.
If you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love you very much.”
by Mary Oliver, from Swan, Poems and Prose Poems
ooooooooooo how i love Mary Oliver’s poems and the way she walks alone within the woods alone with her Soul,
and Ours.
Your photos are, of course, perfect.
Everything is so…perfect…
Even when it’s not.
That last would be, of course, an illusion.