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SS

Stephanie Sugars
Welcome, dear friends and guests!

SS

Pink Moon The Pond -- Mary Oliver

Thank you, Sandy Martin!

xox

Pink Moon

The Pond -- Mary Oliver

You think it will never happen again Then, one night in April

the tribes wake trilling.

You walk down to the shore.

Your coming stills them,

but little by little the silence lifts until song is everywhere

and your soul rises from your bones and strides out over the water.

It is a crazy thing to do -

for no one can live like that, floating around in the darkness over the gauzy water.

Left on the shore your bones

keep shouting come back!

But your soul won't listen;

in the distance it is unfolding

like a pair of wings, it is sparking like hot wires. So,

like a good friend,

you decide to follow.

You step off the shore

and plummet to your knees -

you slog forward to your thighs

and sink to your cheekbones -

and now you are caught

by the cold chains of the water -

you are vanishing while around you

the frogs continue to sing, driving

their music upward through your own throat, not even noticing

you are something else.

And that's when it happens -

you see everything

through their eyes,

their joy, their necessity;

you wear their webbed fingers;

your throat swells.

And that's when you know

you will live whether you will or not,

one way or another,

because everything is everything else,


one long muscle.

It's no more mysterious than that.

So you relax, you don't fight it anymore, The darkness coming down

called water,

called spring,

called the green leaf, called

a woman's body

as it turns into mud and leaves,

as it beats in its cage of water,

as it turns like a lonely spindle

in the moonlight, as it says

yes


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