A Very Mary Oliver Variation – a Golden Shovel poem formed from a vertically written line of first words in “Some Herons” – the poet’s eyes flared just as a poet’s eyes are said to do when the poet is awakened from the forest of meditation


the treasures of a 

poet’s world are journals and pens and 

eyes that see the world differently –

flared ideas that ignite the soul 

just as a fire in winter blazes – 

as words are cast freely across the open page 

a burning idea born of a 

poet’s feverish script from 

eyes that have seen what no one else has seen and 

are painting the pictures of memory 

said to be the one hope 

to change the world – to 

do exactly what disciples and prophets and diviners do 

when three-dimensional truths appear vividly in 

the ordinary creases of life and the 

poet takes notice – 

is suddenly gifted with a magical eye of revelation 

awakened to the past, the present, the future 

from an unknowing trance 

the way the 

forest must feel when it recognizes the intricate beauty

of one single leaf in its quiet 


One Reply to “Meditation”

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