No one has heard of Mary Oliver, because Americans can’t be bothered with poetry. I thought she lived in Florida, for the bulk of her life, because I know only a few of her poems; those that touch on Florida. You can find the details of her life elsewhere.
Tell me, what is it you plan to do/with your one wild and precious life? [final couplet from “The Summer Day”]
Her poem “When Death Comes” is being remembered, which is appropriate. I wouldn’t have heard of her passing, without someone doing exactly that.
When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.
“At Black Water” always affected my view of alligators.
357 Magnum Archive 
Of course alligators aren’t “bronze” or even the brown of oiled bronze. Alligators are black. But you have to give a poet some leeway.
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