Mary Oliver: Wrens

     I think this poem was a bit amusing to read. Oliver starts in almost a pessimistic mood as one wanders through gardens filled with glass and other rubbish. She then goes to describe the little wrens that spend their days filling pails with sticks, diving into the water, and whistling throughout their work. Her last line to describe these wrens is, "foolish birds." I understood this as almost being unamused by the simplicity and contentment in the life of a wren. They spend their days doing small tasks that in the grand scheme seem unimportant to us while moving on in pure bliss. I sometimes find myself feeling a bit of envy for birds and other animals when I am caught up in my life and stressed. How nice it would be just to gather sticks and sing all day. How unbothered and content a life of no expectations must me. I wish to be a foolish bird without a care in the world. We might envy the simplicity of nature while we build a world revolving around innovation.