Mary Oliver



"The Waves"

The sea
isn't a place
but a fact, and
a mystery

under its green and black
cobbled coat that never
stops moving.
When death

happens on land, on some
hairpin piece of road,
we crawl past,
imagining

over and over that moment
of disaster. After the storm
the other boats didn't
hesitate-they spun out

from the rickety pier, the men
bent to the nets or turning
the weedy winches.
Surely the sea

is the most beautiful fact
in our universe, but
you won't find a fisherman
who will say so;
what they say is,
See you later.
Gulls white as angels scream
as they float in the sun

just off the sterns;
everything is here
that you could ever imagine.
And the bones

of the drowned fisherman
are returned, half a year later,
in the glittering,
laden nets.

My hugs to Mary Oliver for a speedy recovery.
xo