We dipped into suburban Virginia on our errands this afternoon and as the returning highway looked terrible we chose to mosey home along back roads. The summer daylilies bloomed in clumps along the road speaking of summer like painted islands along twisting blacktop. The deep green of shade, the blazing hot sun, and the stacked up clouds were the odes in a chorus singing to these long days. The vision of lilies was exactly the taste of summer I needed.
Morning Poem
Every morning
the world
is created.
Under the orange
sticks of the sun
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
of summer lilies.
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
the thorn
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 --
each pond with its blazing lilies
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.
--Mary Oliver, from Dream Work
Morning PoemEvery morning
the world
is created.
Under the orange
sticks of the sun
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
of summer lilies.
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
the thorn
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 --
each pond with its blazing lilies
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.
--Mary Oliver, from Dream Work
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