August
Mary Oliver

 


.
.
When the blackberries hangblackberries
swollen in the woods, in the brambles
nobody owns, I spendall day among the high
branches, reaching
my ripped arms, thinking

of nothing, cramming
the black honey of summer
into my mouth; all day my body

accepts what it is. In the dark
creeks that run by there is
this thick paw of my life darting among

the black bells, the leaves; there is
this happy tongue.

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.
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from the book Devotions by Mary Oliver