Love is a way of life!

I can't stop writing about colder Fall air, and the warmth
people share when the light changes.
I am a revolutionary.
If you asked me why I have a thousand answers.
Just try.
I feel strong, invincible, true. I feel in love with everyone of you.
SO what's left but to drive my life in service to the world that aches.
I have healed my own lives, they run amuck now and I cannot stop
this frenzy.
A junkie for inspiration, passion, enthusiasm and strong strong beauty am I. And so a favorite prose.

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.
© Mary Oliver

The Smell of Politics in Fall

Leaves quiver hold to olden light.
Morning fades from July's drastic dry to smooth cold shimmer.
Sunshine falls shy and cool.
Papers scattered through the office wood.
Voices on a weathered radio, claim your donation to manifest
public real news.
The world overrides its claws on suits and ties and $7,000 dollar shoes
For hurricane nervous breakdowns into the patient heart of awareness.
The same global page awaiting its new viewers.
Turn in your fat crusty balcony of remote controls and voiceover microwaves.
Throw them to the sea of junk they belong in.

I want more family and feet and hands to feel.
I want to grasp starlight with my eyes and to never
forget
twenty and the beginning of every new life.
I want cold to shoot into my lungs and create dance of joy.
I am muksha now I am red and gold and eskimo!
I am fire water ether air earth.
I am biomolecular receptors of nuero firings!

I want to sing from my throat cells and my heart's
own beauty strings.
A song that befalls every curtain of night every window of death
and the moment without fear.
One moment.
The only moment.
The only bridge across to an absolute.
Absolute that defeats itself as being its own arch nemesis.

And all of its thrift stores eternal.
violins, sands, clocks, fingernails, housepaint, billboards, gasoline
incense, coffee table books, records, turbans, frames, rainbows, harpsichords
forests, freeways, ferns, magazines, praying mantis, lollypops, silver, lipsticks
bricks, naan, spider, moss, garbage sack, snake, tv tray, gazebo, coconut, cigarette
hammocks, wrought iron, dolls, signpost, welcome mat
antique, video tape, earrings, airplane, laptop
peas, carrots, coins, plastic wrap, ac adaptors, bric-a-brac, bric-a-brac, bric-a-brac,
littered. used. over. ended. life junk. life junk. time.
I need need need
I am.
I am.
TIMELESS.
Without time.

We have smiles to pass around and kiss.
We have tongues that want grain and water.
We have new countries to sustain.
Their granted needs save my heart such pain of my own.
Childrens gleaming teeth.
Sun skimming hair.
Dancing ocean sands.
Flying feathers birds.
Call, fly, ocean shell.
SSsssssssss desert wind whip.
Dry, wet, yes, no, no, no
Yes.