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.