A Poem for a Thursday #293

It is interesting how my reaction to poems changes from week to week. I save a list of ones that appeal to me but I never know which one is going to jump out when it is time to choose a poem. This week it is Mary Oliver. Sometimes the word pictures of nature scenes that her writing provides is just what I need.

I do not know what gorgeous thing
the bluebird keeps saying,
his voice easing out of his throat,
beak, body into the pink air
of the early morning. I like it
whatever it is. Sometimes
it seems the only thing in the world
that is without dark thoughts.
Sometimes it seems the only thing
in the world that is without
questions that can't and probably 
never will be answered, the
only thing that is entirely content
with the pink, then clear white
morning and, gratefully, says so.

What Gorgeous Thing
Mary Olive