In the quiet of the morning, where shadows softly fall,
Her words still linger, a whisper in the hall.
Mary Oliver, a voice of nature’s grace,
Has left this world, but not without a trace.

She wandered through the woods, with pen in hand,
Capturing the essence of the sea and land.
Now she walks in realms we cannot see,
Yet her poetry remains, wild and free.

Her verses spoke of flowers, rivers, and the sky,
A gentle reminder of the days gone by.
Though she is gone, her spirit stays,
In every rustling leaf, in every sun’s rays.

So we mourn her loss, but celebrate her life,
Her words a beacon in a world of strife.
Mary Oliver, you are forever near,
In the beauty of nature, we hold you dear.