Night Herons (Mary Oliver)

Some herons
were fishing
in the robes
of the night

at a low hour
of the water's body,
and the fish, I suppose,
were full

of fish happiness
in those transparent inches
even as, over and over,
the beaks jacked down

and the narrow
bodies were lifted
with every
quick sally,

and that was the end of them
as far as we know_
though, what do we know 
except that death

is so everywhere and so entire-
pummeling and felling,
or sometimes,
like this, appearing

through such a thin door-
one stab, and you're through!
and what then?
Why, then it was almost morning,

and one by one 
the birds
opened their wings
and flew. 

no help for that (Charles Bukowski)

there is a place in the heart that
will never be filled

a space

and even during the 
best moments
and
the greatest
times

we will know it

we will know it
more than 
ever

there will be a place in the heart that

will never be filled
and

we will wait
and
wait

in that space.

I Own a House (Mary Oliver)

 I own a house, small but comfortable. In it is a bed, a desk, 

a kitchen, a closet, a telephone. And so forth - you know

how it is; things collect. 

Outside the summer clouds are drifting by, all of them

with vague and beautiful faces. And there are the pines

that bush out spicy and ambitious, although they do not

even know their names. And there is the mockingbird;

over and over he rises from his thorn-tree and dances - he

actually dances, in the air. And there are days I wish I

owned nothing, like the grass.