beginning phenology: mary oliver

And I walk on, over the shoulder of summer and down across the red-dappled fall; and, when it’s late winter again, out through the far woodlands of the Provincelands, maybe another few hundred miles, looking for the owl’s nest, yes, of course, and looking at everything else along the way.

–from “Owls” in Owls and Other Fantasies


  1. I like “shoulder of summer.”

    All still when summer is over
    stand shocks in the field,
    nothing left to whisper,
    not even good-bye, to the wind.

    After summer was over
    we knew winter would come:
    we knew silence would wait,
    tall, patient calm.
    – William Stafford, Tragic Song

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