Big-hearted poems: A review of Felicity by Mary Oliver | by Amy Thibodeau | Medium
Things! Burn them, burn them! Make a beautiful fire! More room in your heart for love, for the trees! For the birds who own nothing — the reason they can fly. //From the poem Storage// Reading Mary Oliver’s poetry reminds me of plunging into a cold, clear river. Thinking about it is daunting because you know that at first it will sting and steal your breath. But once you brave jumping into the water and your limbs warm up, the world comes into bright focus. As you float and look at the world beyond the shore, you’re struck by all the little details you’d missed before. The images Oliver evokes are like this. They’re tiny snippets of everyday life you’ve seen a million times but that feel new because you’re more awake than you’ve been in a long time. In her newest collection called Felicity, Oliver continues her tradition of writing poems that glow with gratitude for the minutiae most of us ignore. She writes about these little moments because they’re accessible to her and to all of us.
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