Everything
by Mary Oliver

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 the fields that are
fresh with daises 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;
      the gladness that says, without any words, everything.