Feast Days by Annie Dillard

Thanksgiving-Christmas



I



Three things are too wonderful for me;

four I do not understand:

the way of an eagle in the sky,

the way of a serpent on a rock,

the way of a ship on the high seas,

and the way of a man with a maiden.--Proverbs



Today I saw a wood duck

in Tinker Creek.

In the fall flood, look

what the creek floats down:

once I glimpsed

round the edge of a bank

a troupe of actors

rained in from Kansas,

dressed for comedy.

The flood left a candelabrum

on the lawn.

With a ten-foot hook

we fished from the creek

a bunch of bananas, a zither,

a casket of antique coins.



This poem goes on for pages, and last night when Liza tossed me the book casually at the park, I had no idea.



There are times when I remember very distinctly that poetry is why I am alive.