I carried these words with me through the next years as I struggled to wrestle my grief and disillusionment and pain and joy and hope to the ground and redeem something new and beautiful with it all.  I carried them in my heart and revisited them when I needed the reminder that this renewal may look like telephone poles but I don’t have to care.  That for some things, for this thing, there was no wrong season.  And like Mary Oliver, it was what I dreamed of for me.