What Do We Know

Look, it’s spring.
And last year’s loose dust
has turned into this soft willingness.
The wind-flowers have come up trembling;
slowly the brackens are uplifting their curvaceous and pale bodies.
The thrushes have come home,
none less than filled
with mystery, sorrow, happiness, music, ambition.

And I am walking out into all of this
with nowhere to go and no task undertaken
but to turn the pages of this beautiful world over and over,
in the world of my mind.

Therefore, dark past,
I’m about to do it.
I’m about to forgive you

for everything.
---Mary Oliver