At Blackwater Pond
- by Mary Oliver
At Blackwater Pond the tossed waters have settled
after a night of rain.
I dip my cupped hands. I drink
a long time. It tastes
like stone, leaves, fire. It falls cold
into my body, waking the bones.
I hear them
deep inside me, whispering
oh what is that beautiful thing
that just happened?
'At Blackwater Pond' by Mary Oliver