And Know It

For whatever reason 35 feels big to me. I’ve been thinking a lot about it and what I want it, and the time after it, to be, and inside the collection of Mary Oliver poems that I picked up at Tim’s Used Books in Provincetown last week I found a mighty fine answer.

Look, I want to love this world

as though it’s the last chance I’m ever going to get

to be alive

and know it.