A poem for an autumn Thursday

I heard the crack of geese calls breaking the air yesterday morning, and it made me think of this poem. Which doesn't do the poem justice, since it really isn't about the geese at all...

It is such a memorable poem, and it is one of my very favorite poems in the world, by one of my very favorite poets.   From time to time, I find myself repeating the lines of this poem as if it were a mantra.  Which it should be, come to think of it.  

If you don't know this one, take a look. If you do--enjoy, again.

Wild Geese

by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes, 

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, 

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting — 

over and over announcing your place 

in the family of things.

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