While in Mendocino, I purchased Mary Oliver's newest book of poetry. Her poetry captivates me. I'll be sharing a few of my favorites from this collection in the weeks ahead. The third one in this collection captures the experience of having heart palpitations. Goes like this:
My heart, that used to pump along so pleasantly,
has come now to a different sort of music.
There is someone inside those red walls, irritated
and even, occasionally, irrational.
Years ago I was part of an orchestra; our conductor
was a wild man. He was forever rapping the music-
stand for silence. The he would call out some
correction and we would begin again.
Now again it is the wild man.
I remember the music shattering, and our desperate
Once he flung the baton over our heads and into
the midst of the players. It flew over the violins
and landed next to a bass fiddle. It flopped to the
floor. What silence! The someone picked it up
and it was passed forward back to him. He rapped
the stand and rasied his arms. Then we all breathed
again, and the music restarted.
I am grateful to everyone who writes and reads poetry.