Just Poetry- Mary Oliver

As I am writing this Lauren Laverne is on Radio 6 asking people to help create an autumn themed playlist. I am working at my desk wrapped up in a cardigan. Outside it is bright and sunny but there is a definite chill in the air. To paraphrase Ned Stark... Autumn is coming. Which is wonderful. I love the autumn. I love back to school and new post it notes and pencil sharpenings. I love it when the leaves start to change. I love snuggling under blankets with a cup of tea and a book, I love scarves and pink cheeks and cold fingers, and hot chocolate. Most of all I love the feeling of 'fresh start' that autumn brings. I wonder if it is because I am so immersed in 'school life' that the start of the academic year always feels like a clean slate to me. I am excited about what this year has to offer.

This poem is one of my favourites. It's right at the top of the list. And to me, this poem feels like autumn. I don't know why. I'm not sure if it's because I first read it in a crisp Tennessee autumn (the most beautiful I have ever seen) or because subconsciously I knew that autumn is when all the wild geese turn up in the UK. (It's true! I just looked it up here. Isn't it strange the things you don't know you know.) This morning I felt a real need to sit down and read it, and it felt good, and warm, and comforting.

Wild Geese

By Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting–

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

And, if you can handle any more loveliness:

Happy autumn.