Dark is as dark does
by Mary Oliver

Dark is as dark does.
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Something with the smallest wings shakes itself
From under a thumb of bark.

The ocean breathes in its silver jacket.
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Outside, hanging on the trellis, in the moonlight,
the flowers are opening, each one
as fancy in its unfurl as a difficult thought.
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So we cross the dark together.
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Outside: the almost liquid beauty of the flowers.
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Now the linnets wake.
Now the pearls of their voices are falling
in the morning light.
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Did we sleep long? Is it this life still, or
is it the next life, already? Are we gone, then?
Are we there?
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How will we ever know?