Fellow reader, how unusual to find a book of poetry reviewed on this blog—thanks to my local library book discussion group. While I have not showcased my favorite poet (Billy Collins), there is much to enjoy with this compilation. Selected by Oliver from her publications over the course of her 54 year career (she died in 2019), these more than 200 poems distill the important themes and concerns of the poet.

From these poems I imagine Oliver going out into nature, whether in her woods, near ponds or streams, or by the ocean, sitting so very quietly, allowing herself to become a non-threatening part of the setting, to see what most of us miss. In this way, she carefully observes while minimizing her influence. By placing her consciousness in the moment, she derives insights from these observations.

For the most part, lessons she derives from nature include the needless human tendency to accumulate and value material things; the value of living life spontaneously, in the moment; the seasons teaching us the practice and value of letting go; and the value of experience in nature over most other endeavors. She feels so strongly about immersive living in nature, that two of her poems emphasize its indispensability:

INVITATION

Oh do you have time
to linger
for just a little while
out of your busy
and very important day
for the goldfinches
that have gathered
in a field of thistles
for a musical battle,
to see who can sing
the highest note,
or the lowest,
or the most expressive of mirth,
or the most tender?
Their strong, blunt beaks
drink the air
as they strive
melodiously
not for your sake
and not for mine
and not for the sake of winning
but for sheer delight and gratitude—
believe us, they say,
it is a serious thing
just to be alive
on this fresh morning
in this broken world.
I beg of you,
do not walk by
without pausing
to attend to this
rather ridiculous performance.
It could mean something.
It could mean everything.
It could be what Rilke meant, when he wrote:
You must change your life.

HOW WOULD YOU LIVE THEN?

What if a hundred rose-breasted grosbeaks
flew in circles around your head? What if
the mockingbird came into the house with you and
became your advisor? What if
the bees filled your walls with honey and all
you needed to do was ask them and they would fill
the bowl? What if the brook slid downhill just
past your bedroom window so you could listen
to its slow prayers as you fell asleep? What if
the stars began to shout their names, or to run
this way and that way above the clouds? What if
you painted a picture of a tree, and the leaves
began to rustle, and a bird cheerfully sang
from its painted branches? What if you suddenly saw
that the silver of water was brighter than the silver
of money? What if you finally saw
that the sunflowers, turning toward the sun all day
and every day—who knows how, but they do it—were
more precious, more meaningful than gold?

I think Oliver’s bottom line is that life, moment by moment, is extremely precious, and we lose track of that after childhood. The youngest children, and the animals and plants all seem to share the knowledge that we lose as we live our lives. Oliver’s poetry is a balm for that reason— she spent her life reminding us of what we are missing by running around attached to our phones. So, just go outside and sit quietly: her prescription for a stressed world, that has forgotten the point of it all.