Day 858: Last Days

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last days - Mary Oliver

 

Things are

    changing; things are starting to

        spin, snap, fly off into

            the blue sleeve of the long

               afternoon. Oh and ooh

come whistling out of the perished mouth

     of the grass, as things

turn soft, boil back

      into substance and hue. As everything,

          forgetting its own enchantment, whispers:

              I too love oblivion why not it is full

                   of second chances. Now,

hiss the bright curls of the leaves, Now!

    booms the muscle of the wind.