So I’ve been pondering this line about “happy, thirsty, poems” from Mary Oliver’s poem, The Poetry Teacher, for a couple of weeks now. I wish I had been in her class, don’t you? I’ve decided that all poems are thirsty and/or happy. This poem began (18 revisions ago) by looking at the synonyms and antonyms of “thirsty.”I wake up thirsty and drink cool water. I walk, yearning for vision, and plan the next hours in my day. I work, longing for my heart and soul to be filled up, and return home craving solitude. Closing my eyes, I drink in stillness and peace. Reflecting on the world around me, I pray, wanting the impossible, seeking wisdom. I write words overflowing. Finally quenched by the active thirstiness and gifts of my day, I sleep.
all poems are thirsty and happy