In Blackwater Woods

Look, the trees are turning their own bodies into pillars of light, are giving off the rich fragrance of cinnamon and fulfillment, are braided with the silk of the moon.

As the flock of blackbirds is wishing to be free and has melted into the dark of nature’s night, with the beauty there, a whole night is progressing and full of spirit.

In the darkening woods, I will tell you how it progresses, on the sights that are new, you will get rid of your fear, write on the wind, and know how it journeys, so wild and so slow. We can be free, we just have to hear.

This is the close of our lives, with the tiny buildings of sight all assembled here, the pretty dawn breaking, and the line of gold coming in with the stars. All will be alright.

What can you ever do, you who are only who will need to be? You are here. It’s perfect.

Let us loosen the grip of what we think we have, we will learn what we cannot see. It’s alright, it’s a long moment in the world! Come into the woods, drink it in again. It’s a lovely thing to need a place, to accept our own smallness, our place amidst the night.

• Mary Oliver