{"id":54,"date":"2020-04-02T13:39:00","date_gmt":"2020-04-02T13:39:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/2020\/04\/02\/a-poem-for-thursday-75\/"},"modified":"2020-10-26T20:47:31","modified_gmt":"2020-10-26T20:47:31","slug":"a-poem-for-thursday-75","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/2020\/04\/02\/a-poem-for-thursday-75\/","title":{"rendered":"A Poem for a Thursday #75"},"content":{"rendered":"\n\n\n\n
<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
Photo by\u00a0<\/span>Martin Sepion<\/a>\u00a0on\u00a0<\/span>Unsplash<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

It has been a while since I have featured a Mary Oliver poem. Her poems are some of my absolute favorites. I enjoy the way her words and the mental picture they create go together so perfectly. In this poem, she talks about just that.<\/p>\n

You don’t ever know where<\/i>
\na sentence will take you, depending\u00a0<\/i>
\non its roll and fold. I was walking<\/i>
\nover the dunes when I saw<\/i>
\nthe red fox asleep under the green\u00a0<\/i>
\nbranches of the pine. It flared up<\/i>
\nin the sweet order of its being,<\/i>
\nthe tail that was over the muzzle<\/i>
\nlifting in airy amazement<\/i>
\nand the fire of the eyes followed<\/i>
\nand the pricked ears and the thin<\/i>
\nbarrel body and the four<\/i>
\nathletic legs in their black stockings and it<\/i>
\ncame to me how the polish of the world changes<\/i>
\neverything, I was hot I was cold I was almost<\/i>
\ndead of delight. Of course the mind keeps\u00a0<\/i>
\ncool in its hidden palace-yes, the mind takes<\/i>
\na long time, is otherwise occupied than by\u00a0<\/i>
\nhappiness, and deep breathing. Still,<\/i>
\nat last, it comes too, running<\/i>
\nlike a wild thing, to be taken<\/i>
\nwith its twin sister, breath. So I stood<\/i>
\non the pale, peach-colored sand,\u00a0<\/i>watching the fox<\/i>
\nas it opened like a flower, and I began<\/i>
\nsoftly, to pick among the vast\u00a0<\/i>assortment of words<\/i>
\nthat it should run again and again\u00a0<\/i>across the page<\/i>
\nthat you again and again should shiver\u00a0<\/i>with praise.\u00a0<\/i>
\n
\n<\/i>
\nFox<\/i>
\nMary Oliver<\/p>\n

Visit Brona<\/a> for more poetry.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Photo by\u00a0Martin Sepion\u00a0on\u00a0Unsplash It has been a while since I have featured a Mary Oliver poem. Her poems are some of my absolute favorites. I enjoy the way her words and the mental picture they create go together so perfectly. In this poem, she talks about just that. You don’t ever know where a sentence will take you, depending\u00a0 on its roll and fold. I was walking over the dunes when I saw the red fox asleep under the green\u00a0 branches of the pine. It flared up in the sweet order of its being, the tail that was over the muzzle lifting in airy amazement and the fire of the eyes followed and the pricked ears and the thin barrel body and the four athletic legs in their black stockings and it came to me how the polish of the world changes everything, I was hot I was cold I was almost dead of delight. Of course the mind keeps\u00a0 cool in its hidden palace-yes, the mind takes a long time, is otherwise occupied than by\u00a0 happiness, and deep breathing. Still, at last, it comes too, running like a wild thing, to be taken with its twin sister, breath. So I stood on the pale, peach-colored sand,\u00a0watching the fox as it opened like a flower, and I began softly, to pick among the vast\u00a0assortment of words that it should run again and again\u00a0across the page that you again and again should shiver\u00a0with praise.\u00a0 Fox Mary Oliver Visit Brona for more poetry.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1839,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-54","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poem-for-a-thursday"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/54","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=54"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/54\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2508,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/54\/revisions\/2508"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1839"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=54"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=54"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=54"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}