Felicity

by Mary Oliver

For how many years did I wander slowly through the forest. What wonder and glory I would have missed had I ever been in a hurry!

The cricket doesn’t wonder if there’s a heaven or, if there is, if there’s room for him.

Things! Burn them, burn them! Make a beautiful fire! More room in your heart for love, for the trees! For the birds who own nothing—the reason they can fly.

A Voice from I Don’t Know Where It seems you love this world very much. “Yes,” I said. “This beautiful world.” And you don’t mind the mind, that keeps you busy all the time with its dark and bright wonderings? “No, I’m quite used to it. Busy, busy, all the time.” And you don’t mind living with those questions, I mean the hard ones, that no one can answer? “Actually, they’re the most interesting.” And you have a person in your life whose hand you like to hold? “Yes, I do.” It must surely, then, be very happy down there in your heart. “Yes,” I said. “It is.”