The Act of Crossing

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Whether you are crossing out a word as you write, crossing a bridge or a swamp, telling a joke about unlikely crossings or perhaps crossing someone’s mind, the act of crossing involves intent and deliberate movement.

Crossings

I wonder if I ever cross your mind?
……….~ Lady Antebellum

Q: What do you get when you cross an insomniac, an agnostic, and a dyslexic?
A: Someone who stays up all night wondering if there is a Dog.
……….~ Groucho Marx

Crossing the Swamp

Here is the endless
wet thick
cosmos, the center
of everything—the nugget
of dense sap, branching
vines, the dark burred
faintly belching
bogs. Here
is swamp, here
is struggle,
closure—
pathless, seamless,
peerless mud. My bones
knock together at the pale
joints, trying
for foothold, fingerhold,
mindhold over
such slick crossings, deep
hipholes, hummocks
that sink silently
into the black, slack
earthsoup. I feel
not wet so much as
painted and glittered
with the fat grassy
mires, the rich
and succulent marrows
of earth—a poor
dry stick given
one more chance by the whims
of swamp water—a bough
that still, after all these years,
could take root,
sprout, branch out, bud—
make of its life a breathing
palace of leaves.

……~ Mary Olver

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About CarolWiebe

Art entices, inspires, and delights me. Art is a vehicle for laughter, tears, wonder, enlightenment--taking me on a constant path of discovery. You can't say that about housework (except, perhaps, for the crying part).
This entry was posted in Can't help wondering . . . . ., Digital Art, Photography, Poetry, Quotations and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The Act of Crossing

  1. Sandra says:

    Mary Oliver is one of my favorites. Maybe even my favorite. And he Groucho joke gave me a big smile. Thanks for sharing both.

    • Carol Wiebe says:

      You are SO welcome, Sandra. We share a favorite with Mary Oliver. I can never read more than i or two poems of hers at a time. I just have to sit back and savour.

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