Snow Geese......Mary Oliver

SNOW GEESE

Oh, to love what is lovely and will not last!

What a task

To ask

Of anything, or anyone,

Yet it is ours,

And not by the century or the year, 

but by the hours

One fall day I heard

Above me, and above the sting of the wind, a sound

I did not know, and my look shot upward;

It was a flock of snow geese, winging it

Faster than the ones we usually see,

And, being the color os snow, catching the sun

So they were , in part at least, golden.

I held my breath 

as we do sometimes 

to stop time

when something wonderful

has touched us

as with a match

which is lit, and bright,

but does not hurt

in the common way,

but delightfully,

as if delight

were the most serious thing

you ever felt.

The geese flew on.

I have never seen them again.

Maybe I will, someday, somewhere.

Maybe I won’t

It doesn’t matter.

What matters

Is that, when I saw them,

I saw them 

As through the veil,

secretly, joyfully, clearly.