• Avian,  Mary Oliver,  meadowlark,  poems

    You sing, I listen

    Meadowlark, when you sing it’s as if
    you lay your yellow breast upon mine and say
    hello, hello, and are we not
    of one family, in our delight of life?
    You sing, I listen.
    Both are necessary
    if the world is to continue going around
    night-heavy then light–laden, though not
    everyone knows this or at least
    not yet,

    or, perhaps, has forgotten it
    in the torn fields,

    in the terrible debris of progress.

    Mary Oliver, Meadowlark Sings and I Greet Him In Return

    We need rain. So far for the month of April we have .1 inch of rain. Dixon Reservoir is really low at Pineridge Natural Area. As I watch the sun rise four mule deer graze before me. And, the meadowlarks sing and I listen.