In the quiet woods, where whispers breeze,
Mary found her solace, her peace with ease.
Among the trees, she danced with grace,
A poet’s heart in nature’s embrace.

With every dawn, a new verse was born,
Her words a tapestry, never torn.
She spoke of love, of life, of death,
Each line a gentle, calming breath.

She wandered paths both wild and free,
Her soul entwined with land and sea.
Through every storm, through every strife,
She captured moments, immortal life.

Now though she’s gone, her spirit stays,
In every word, in every phrase.
A legacy of light and love,
Mary Oliver, a poet’s dove.