Morning Poem
Every morning
the world
is created.
Under the orange
the world
is created.
Under the orange
sticks of the sun
the heaped
ashes of the night
turn into leaves again
the heaped
ashes of the night
turn into leaves again
and fasten themselves to the high
branches ---
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands
of summer lilies.
If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails
If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails
for hours, your
imagination
alighting everywhere.
And if your spirit
carries within it
alighting everywhere.
And if your spirit
carries within it
the thorn
that is heavier than lead ---
if it's all you can do
to keep on trudging ---
that is heavier than lead ---
if it's all you can do
to keep on trudging ---
there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what it wanted ---
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what it wanted ---
each pond with its blazing
lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
lavishly,
every morning,
is a prayer heard and answered
lavishly,
every morning,
whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.
~ Mary Oliver ~
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