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The Forecast of Grief

Your weekly Mary Oliver poem and writing prompt.

Jun 21, 2026

Welcome to Dream Work: A Year-Long Writing Journey with Mary Oliver

In the spirit of immersing myself deeper in the practice and studying of nature poetry,
I am embarking on a year-long writing journey with Mary Oliver, reading a single poem of hers each day and then writing one in response.
I’m bringing you along on the journey. Every Sunday, I share a Mary Oliver poem, one of mine I’ve written in response, along with a poetry prompt for you to write your own in conversation with her.

Each week, we will gather in the comments section and share our Mary Oliver inspired poetry with each other.

Photo by NOAA on Unsplash

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Shadows
Mary Oliver

Everyone knows the great energies running amok cast
terrible shadows, that each of the so-called
senseless acts has its thread looping
back through the world and into a human heart.
     And meanwhile
the gold-trimmed thunder
wanders the sky; the river
may be filling the cellars of the sleeping town.
Cyclone, fire, and their merry cousins
     bring us to grief--but these are the hours
with the old wooden-god faces;
we lift them to our shoulders like so many
black coffins, we continue walking
into the future.  I don't mean
     there are no bodies in the river,
or bones broken by the wind.  I mean
everyone who has heard the lethal train-roar
of the tornado swears there was no mention ever
of any person, or reason--I mean
     the waters rise without any plot upon
history, or even geography.  Whatever
power of the earth rampages, we turn to it
dazed by anonymous eyes; whatever
the name of the catastrophe, it is never
     the opposite of love.

© Mary Oliver
From Dreamwork, 1986

Photo by Jari Hytönen on Unsplash

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Griefstorm
Ash Kilback

It will happen on a day I can’t predict
I’ll wake feeling sunny-skied on the inside

and then somewhere across the distant
horizon of memory, clouds begin to form

like tall white mountains, shapeshifting into faces
of people whose names I rarely speak anymore,

sometimes their names I used to give myself.
My heart trembles from the thunder of an old

wound and suddenly the atmosphere of my body
shifts, wind rises up in my belly, makes a funnel

in the back of my throat. I don’t know how long
it will take to pass so I wait for that crack

of lightning to come, split me open down
the center, and turn me into rain.

This Week’s Prompt: The Weather of Grief

This week, write a poem after Mary Oliver’s Shadows, where you speak about your grief as if it’s a storm. Write a poem as a forecast report for your grief, describe its atmospheric conditions that are felt in the body, carry us through a storm that you’ve survived.

Come back to the comments on this post Sunday, June 28th and share your poem.

Photo by Richard Lee on Unsplash

Wild Attention: A Poetry Reading in Celebration of Mary Oliver

Sunday, June 28th \ 7PM-8:30PM PST

Since I began sharing my Mary Oliver writing journey with you, there has been a wellspring of poetry written and a whole community of poets who have found each other through the wisdom and comfort of Mary’s work and the poems that have been inspired through it.

I’m excited to share that I’ll be hosting our first community gathering in celebration of our Dreamwork project to come together to read Mary Oliver poems and the ones we’ve written from our weekly prompts.

UPDATE: all of our reading spots are currently filled, but I’d love to invite you to join us a listener, bringing your own wild attention to each poem shared.

Poetry Reading Sign-Up Sheet

Things Take the Time They Take.
P.S. - Come gather in the comments section and give praise to the poets who shared their poems from last week’s prompt inspired by Mary Oliver’s poem, Don’t Worry.