In the poem “When Death Comes,” Mary Oliver wrote:
When it’s over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
Today death came to Mary. May God have mercy and grant her rest! Her love and thankfulness for life and the world watered my own heart through the few poems by her I have known.
For me, it’s a blessedly rainy day, and I am re-posting in memory of her a poem about rain, and much more.
Lingering in Happiness
After rain after many days without rain,
It stays cool, private and cleansed, under the trees,
and the dampness there, married now to gravity,
falls branch to branch, leaf to leaf, down to the ground
where it will disappear — but not, of course, vanish
except to our eyes. The roots of the oaks will have their share,
and the white threads of the grasses, and the cushion of moss;
a few drops, round as pearls, will enter the mole’s tunnel;
and soon so many small stones, buried for a thousand years,
will feel themselves being touched.