Tuesday, February 1, 2022

The Storm - by Mary Oliver

 

Arthur Bruno's Dog, Winter

The Storm - by Mary Oliver​

Now through the white orchard my little dog
romps,
breaking the new snow
with wild feet.

Running here running there, excited,
 hardly able to stop, 
he leaps, he spins

until the white snow is written upon
in large, exuberant letters,

a long sentence, expressing
 the pleasures of the body in this world.

Oh, I could not have said it better


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