"Those Days" by Mary Oliver
When I think of her I think of the long summer days
she lay in the sun, how she loved the sun, how we
spread our blanket, and friends came, and
the dogs played, and then I would get restless and
get up and go off to the woods
and the fields, and the afternoon would
soften gradually and finally I would come
home, through the long shadows, & into the house
where she would be
my glorious welcoming, tan & hungry & ready to tell
the hurtless gossips of the day & how I
listened leisurely while I put
around the room flowers in jars of water -
daisies, butter-and-eggs, & everlasting -
until like our lives they trembled & shimmered
everywhere.
