Gratitude

THE PLACE I WANT TO GET BACK TO by Mary Oliver

The place I want to get back to

is where in the pinewoods

in the moments between the darkness and first light

two deer came walking down the hill

and when they saw me

they said to each other, okay, this one is okay,

let's see who she is and why she is sitting on the ground like that,

so quiet, as if asleep, or in a dream,

but, anyway, harmless;

and so they came on their slender legs

and gazed upon me not unlike the way

I go out to the dunes and look and look and look

into the faces of the flowers;

and then one of them leaned forward and nuzzled my hand,

and what can my life bring to me that could exceed that brief moment?

For twenty years I have gone every day to the same woods,

not waiting, exactly, just lingering.

Such gifts, bestowed, can't be repeated.

If you want to talk about this come to visit.

I live in the house near the corner,

which I have named Gratitude.