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Mary Oliver Poem #3: Just as the Calendar Began to Say Summer

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  Just as the Calendar Began to Say Summer (pg. 191) is a wonderful poem that demonstrates Oliver’s curiosity and desire to be in nature. What initially drove me to read this poem was the title. As someone who lives a fast-paced life, I often feel like a season ends as soon as I begin to get settled into it. Reading this poem brought me back to moments in my childhood, specifically when she says, “Spent all summer forgetting what I’d been taught”      While it's summertime, students try to soak up every ounce of free time they have and tend to give school much thought. When I was in grade school, I was definitely the kid who lived my summers to the fullest and relished in not having to do homework.      Mary Oliver then reflects on how the classroom confines her and keeps her away from nature. She acknowledges that while she is sitting in this room and being lectured at, nature is still alive and well. She says, “The river kept rolling its pebbles, th...
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Mary Oliver Poem #1: This Morning

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  THIS MORNING This morning the redbirds’ eggs have hatched and already the chicks are chirping for food. They don't know where it’s coming from, they just keep shouting, “More! More!” As to anything else, they haven’t had a single thought. Their eyes haven’t yet opened, they know nothing  about the sky that’s waiting. Or the thousands, the millions of trees.  They don't even know they have wings. And just like that, like a simple neighborhood event, a miracle is taking place. This Mary Oliver poem immediately drew my attention because it is about morning time, my favorite time of day (other than sunset). Reading this poem immediately brought me back to being a child when I would notice the sounds of nature when I woke up. Back then, my mind was not so preoccupied with other thoughts that damaged my perception of my surrounding environment. I vividly remember having to wake up before the sun rose before school to pick out my outfit, pack a lunch, and have breakfast. By th...
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Mary Oliver Poem #6: Blue Iris

Now that I'm free to be myself, who am I?  Can't fly, can't run, and see how slowly I walk.  Well, I think, I can read books.  "What's that you're doing?"  the green-headed fly shouts as it buzzes past.  I close the book.  Well, I can write down words, like these, softly.  "What's that you're doing?" whispers the wind, pausing in a heap just outside the window. Give me a little time, I say back to its staring, silver face.  It doesn't happen all of a sudden, you know.  "Doesn't it?" says the wind, and breaks open, releasing distillation of blue iris.  And my heart panics not to be, as I long to be, the empty, waiting, pure, speechless receptacle.      Mary Oliver's poem "Blue Iris" delves into the beauty of nature, emphasizing the transient nature of life. The blue iris serves as a powerful symbol, embodying both enchanting allure and fleeting impermanence. Oliver prompts readers to reflect on the fragility...
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