Deane's Blog


Deane WattersComment



by Mary Oliver


is the instructor.

We need no other.

Guess what I am,

he says in his

incomparably lovely

young-man voice.

Because I love the world

I think of grass,

I think of leaves

and the bold sun,

I think of the rushes

in the black marshes

just coming back

from under the pure white

and now finally melting

stubs of snow.

Whatever we know or don't know

leads us to say:

Teacher, what do you mean?

But faith is still there, and silent.

Then he who owns

the incomparable voice

suddenly flows upward

and out of the room

and I follow,

obedient and happy.

Of course I am thinking

the Lord was once young

and will never in fact be old.

And who else could this be, who goes off

down the green path,

carrying his sandals, and singing?