“Poetry is a life-cherishing force. And it requires a vision-a faith, to use an old fashioned term. Yes, indeed. For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry. Yes, indeed.”

Oliver was born in 1935. She attended both Ohio State University and Vassar College, but never finished a degree. She served as a live-in companion for several years to the ageing sister of poet Edna St. Vincent Millay. During this time she met photographer Molly Malone Cook, with whom she lived for more than forty years, until Cook’s death in 2005 from lung cancer. Oliver has won many awards for her poetry, including the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1984 for the volume American Primitive and the National Book Award for New and Selected Poems Vol.I. (Beacon Press)

The natural world is the focal point of Oliver’s poetry. Through astute observation and attention (which she likens to prayer) she writes of the human condition as expressed in nature. She writes of birds and lakes, rivers, animals, flowers, wind and storms. Throughout the poems one feels the stillness, humor and grandeur of the outdoors, but is directed also to think about life as a consequence of it. “There is about Mary Oliver’s poetry a deep and miraculous composure-the words are hers, the pleasure ours.” (Homer)

Such Singing in the Wild Branches is a poem written in 2003 and is contained in the volume Owls and Other Fantasies. (pp.8-9)

It was spring

and finally I heard him

among the first leaves-

then I saw him clutching the limb

in an island of shade

with his red-brown feathers

all trim and neat for the new year.

First I stood still

and thought of nothing.

Then I was filled with gladness-

and that’s when it happened,

when I seemed to float,

to be, myself, a wing or a tree-

and I began to understand

what the bird was saying,

and the sands in the glass

stopped

for a pure white moment

while gravity sprinkled upward

like rain, rising,

and in fact

it became difficult to tell just what it was that was singing-

it was the thrush for sure, but it seemed

not a single thrush, but himself, and all his brothers,

and also the trees around them,

as well as the gliding, long-tailed clouds

in the perfectly blue sky-all, all of them

were singing.

And, of course, yes, so it seemed

so was I.

Such soft and solemn and perfect music doesn’t last

for more than a few moments.

It’s one of those magical places wise people

like to talk about.

One of the things they say about it, that is true,

is that, once you’ve been there,

you’re there forever.

Listen, everyone has a chance.

Is it spring, is it morning?

Are there trees near you,

and does your own soul need comforting?

Quick, then-open the door and fly on your heavy feet; the song

may already be drifting away.

The title of this poem seems a poem in itself. The use of the words ‘Such Singing’ lets the reader know it is something special and out of the ordinary that has been experienced. The imagery of wild branches and imagined other-worldly singing produces a remarkably vivid mental picture before the poem is even begun. The poem is written as if Oliver is speaking personally to the reader-she is often the wanderer/observer in her poems. She imparts a feeling of breathlessness and excitement in what she is telling. Through the entire reading it feels as if she, the speaker, is someone older and wiser, attempting to convince the younger reader to pay attention to life happening all around. The wording is so simple, direct and pure that the speaker does not come off as condescending, but caring.

The poem begins with short snippets of the entire sentence, creating the image of the jerky hopping of little birds in the surrounding trees, tiny legs ‘clutching the limb’ not of a tree, but an ‘island of shade’. This creates a mental image of an oasis; a place for revival and refreshment.

Next comes the ‘attention’ that Oliver finds very necessary to feel whole. (as also displayed in The Real Prayers Are Not the Words, but the Attention from New and Selected Poems Vol. II)

First I stood still and thought of nothing.

There is a feel of hush and silence. She then describes a mental metamorphoses of becoming one with her surroundings-a merging of her soul with all around her. There is a Japanese Buddhist term for enlightenment — satori-this seems to be what Oliver is experiencing-a flash of sudden awareness (a step on the way to nirvana). She becomes the birdsong, the flesh and blood of the creature and sap of the trees. The way she describes it is thus:

and the sands in the glass

stopped

for a pure white moment

I am reminded of Chinese calligraphy. The words themselves are visual. The single word ‘stopped’ creates stress on the word and a break in the flow, turning the printed word into the very action it describes. The mysticism is furthered by the words ‘a pure white moment’, which feels like a flash of intense cold/heat, or awakening. Oliver continues describing her oneness with all around her, with the birds and trees, up to the sky and the clouds. It ends with a gentle sigh of alliteration:

Such soft and solemn and perfect music doesn’t last

for more than a few moments.

She tells us that wise people have always had knowledge of this unity with nature-to think of nothing, to listen and let the soul be filled by the magic of the world. Be a part of the earth, not separate from the earth. Once attained and realized, you have the ability for the connection forever. The poem ends with bright optimism and exhorts the reader:

Quick, then-open the door and fly on your heavy feet; the song

may already be drifting away.

It appears the window of opportunity may close at any time, but if the reader makes haste he may also experience a ‘comforting of the soul’ and a flash of enlightenment. He has only to open his heart and listen.