Everyone knows the great energies running

amok cast

terrible shadows, that each of the so-called

senseless acts  has its thread looping

back through the world into a human


             And meanwhile

the gold-trimmed thunder

wanders the sky; the river

may be filling the cellars of the sleeping town.

Cyclone, fire, and their merry cousins 

Bring us grief.  But these are the hours

with the old wooden-god faces;

we lift them to our shoulders like so many

black coffins, we continue walking

into the future.  I don’t mean

              there are no bodies in the river,

or bones  broken by the wind.  I mean

everyone who has heard the lethal train-roar

of the tornado swears there was no mention

ever of any person, or reason – I mean

               the water rises without any plot upon

history, or even geography.  Whatever

power of the earth rampages, we turn to it

dazed but anonymous eyes; whatever

the name of the catastrophe, it is never

               the opposite of love.

                                                        Mary Oliver

Wherever  you go and whatever you do on this meandering journey you have begun together, remember and re-member who you are and why you choose to be here this time around.  Two “memories” from two other poets who visited you this year:

…we shall never cease our exploration

and when all our exploring is done,

we shall end up where we started and know the place for the first time.

                                                        T.S. Eliot

Let the Beauty you love be the Beauty you do.