Where Does the Dance Begin, Where Does It End?
Don't call this world adorable, or useful, that's not it.
It's frisky, and a theater for more than fair winds.
The eyelash of lightning is neither good nor evil.
The struck tree burns like a pillar of gold.
But the blue rain sinks, straight to the white
feet of the trees
whose mouths open.
Doesn't the wind, turning in circles, invent the dance?
Haven't the flowers moved, slowly, across Asia, then Europe,
until at last, now, they shine
in your own yard?
Don't call this world an explanation, or even an education.
When the Sufi poet whirled, was he looking
outward, to the mountains so solidly there
in a white-capped ring, or was he looking
to the center of everything: the seed, the egg, the idea
that was also there,
beautiful as a thumb
curved and touching the finger, tenderly,
little love-ring,
as he whirled,
oh jug of breath,
in the garden of dust?
by Mary Oliver
-from Why I Wake Early (2004)
About The Photographer: Ursula I. Abresch
:
Ursula is a photographer in the West Kootenays, in beautiful British Columbia, Canada. She was born in Argentina, raised in both Argentina and Chile. She moved to the USA to attend university, and eventually moved permanently to Canada. Ursula is married. She and her husband have five children. She has a degree in Education with a concentration in Art and History. She now dedicates most of her time to photography. (information taken from her website directly).
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