Mysteries, Yes
by Mary Oliver
Truly, we live with mysteries too marvellous to be understood. How grass can be nourishing in the mouths of the lambs. How rivers and stones are forever in allegiance with gravity while we ourselves dream of rising. How two hands touch and the bonds will never be broken. How people come, from delight or the scars of damage, to the comfort of a poem. Let me keep my distance, always, from those who think they have the answers. Let me keep company always with those who say “Look!” and laugh in astonishment, and bow their heads.
Wonder, Yes
by David Dayson
Chasmal beauty, sapphire wandering sea, as I go up and over chalk cliffs in spring, east of Durdle Door. One hundred and fifty million years beneath my hurried feat, and me a tiny percentage of it all. The rythm of up and down, cycles of success and defeat, though I know there are neither anymore, only rolling hills, a circular journey, taking me back across a ridge, to where skylarks hover over, ascend to silence, scan horizons I can imagine, but cannot see, before they fall to rise again in song. Landscape, sky scape, escape to where mystery and joy flow into wonder at simple harmony.
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I enjoyed both poems. Mysteries and Wonder indeed. Perfectly described and an antidote to the evil and consequent horror that is currently overtaking this world.