Felicity

by Mary Oliver

Moments There are moments that cry out to be fulfilled. Like, telling someone you love them. Or giving your money away, all of it. Your heart is beating, isn’t it? You’re not in chains, are you? There is nothing more pathetic than caution when headlong might save a life, even, possibly, your own.

Nothing Is Too Small Not to Be Wondered About The cricket doesn’t wonder if there’s a heaven or, if there is, if there’s room for him. It’s fall. Romance is over. Still, he sings. If he can, he enters a house through the tiniest crack under the door. Then the house grows colder. He sings slower and slower. Then, nothing. This must mean something, I don’t know what. But certainly it doesn’t mean he hasn’t been an excellent cricket all his life.

When Did It Happen? When did it happen? “It was a long time ago.” Where did it happen? “It was far away.” No, tell. Where did it happen? “In my heart.” What is your heart doing now? “Remembering. Remembering!”

But sometimes, when I’m thinking about you, and no doubt smiling, it sits down quietly, one paw under its chin, and just listens.

What This Is Not This is not just surprise and pleasure. This is not just beauty sometimes too hot to touch. This is not a blessing with a beginning and an end. This is not just a wild summer. This is not conditional.

Not Anyone Who Says Not anyone who says, “I’m going to be careful and smart in matters of love,” who says, “I’m going to choose slowly,” but only those lovers who didn’t choose at all but were, as it were, chosen by something invisible and powerful and uncontrollable and beautiful and possibly even unsuitable— only those know what I’m talking about in this talking about love.

I Don’t Want to Lose I don’t want to lose a single thread from the intricate brocade of this happiness. I want to remember everything. Which is why I’m lying awake, sleepy but not sleepy enough to give it up. Just now, a moment from years ago: the early morning light, the deft, sweet gesture of your hand reaching for me.

The Gift Be still, my soul, and steadfast. Earth and heaven both are still watching though time is draining from the clock and your walk, that was confident and quick, has become slow. So, be slow if you must, but let the heart still play its true part. Love still as once you loved, deeply and without patience. Let God and the world know you are grateful. That the gift has been given.