No poet ever wrote a poem to dishonor life, to compromise high ideals, to scorn religious views, to demean hope or gratitude, to argue against tenderness, to place rancor before love, or to praise littleness of soul. Not one. Not ever.
On the contrary, poets have, in freedom and in prison, in health and in misery, with listeners and without listeners, spent their lives examining and glorifying life, meditation, thoughtfulness, devoutness, and human love. They have done this wildly, serenely, rhetorically, lyrically, without hope of answer or reward. They have done this grudgingly, willingly, patiently, and in the steams of impatience.
They have done it for all and any of the gods of life, and the record of their so doing belongs to each one of us.
Including you.
—Mary Oliver, Rules for the Dance
cakes, tea and dreams 
Good Morning- I am in snowy Buffalo, NY, and our winter has been somewhat like yours!! I am late to the party-just getting onto poetry and just purchased the Caroline Kennedy book this weekend. Please tell me a good place to start with Mary Oliver? Thank you, think Spring!!
Oh my goodness, that’s beautiful.