Everything

I want to make poems that say right out, plainly,
what I mean, that don’t go looking for the
laces of elaboration, puffed sleeves. I want to
keep close, and use often words like
heavy, heart, joy, soon and to cherish
the question mark and her bold sister

the dash. I want to write with quiet hands. I
want to write while crossing fields that are
fresh with daisies and everlasting and the
ordinary grass. I want to make poems while thinking of
the bread of heaven and the
cup of astonishment; let them be

songs in which nothing is neglected,
not a hope, not a promise. I want to make poems
that look into the earth and the heavens
and see the unseeable. I want them to honor
both the heart of faith, and the light of the world;
that gladness that says, without any words, everything.

~ Mary Oliver ~