Happiness

This picture makes my heart ache with happiness and gratitude for the three days I got to spend with my darling sweet friend Denise this week.

The words stumble over each other in my mind as they all rush to the forefront to be expressed. I keep hesitating, waiting for them to get in line, to be polite and take turns, so that they will make sense when written out on the page. It just isn't happening. It seems that they are getting more impatient and less cooperative, so I will start by posting this poem that expresses a lot of the feelings vying for the first spot in line. I will probably be back later tonight-or definitely tomorrow to write from my heart.


Happiness

In the afternoon I watched
the she-bear; she was looking
for the secret bin of sweetness -
honey, that the bees store
in the trees’ soft caves.
Black block of gloom, she climbed down
tree after tree and shuffled on
through the woods. And then
she found it! The honey-house deep
as heartwood, and dipped into it
among the swarming bees - honey and comb
she lipped and tongued and scooped out
in her black nails, until

maybe she grew full, or sleepy, or maybe
a little drunk, and sticky
down the rugs of her arms,
and began to hum and sway.
I saw her let go of the branches,
I saw her lift her honeyed muzzle
into the leaves, and her thick arms,
as though she would fly -
an enormous bee
all sweetness and wings -
down into the meadows, the perfections
of honeysuckle and roses and clover -
to float and sleep in the sheer nets
swaying from flower to flower
day after shining day.

Mary Oliver