Ordinarily, I go to the woods alone, with not a single
friend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore
I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds
or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my way of
praying, as you no doubt have yours.
I can sit
on the top of a dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds,
unhearable sound of the roses singing.
you very much.”
― Mary Oliver, Swan: Poems and Prose Poems
Photos by Lelantos