The god of dirt
came up to me many times and said
so many wise and delectable things, I lay
on the grass listening
to his dog voice,
crow voice,
frog voice: now,
he said, and now,
and never once mentioned forever,
which has nevertheless always been, like a sharp iron hoof,
at the center of my mind.
Mary Oliver (1935-2019), Dream Work, 1986.
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