Tuesday, July 01, 2014

A morning poem

The exercise-in-the-morning caper is getting quite gruelling here in Canberra. If you look at the temperature descent throughout the night it is at it's very coldest around 6 am, and it's a strenuous effort going outside soon after. But I am trying to persevere for at least some mornings of the week and toughen up. I take courage from the fact that, while winter has really only just begun, we have passed the winter equinox so the days will only get longer.

The other morning I was out jogging in my usual purple jacket, with a pinkish/red one underneath that is very light and has holes in it but has very long sleeves I can bury my hands in, and a bright pink ear-band around my head, because that was the dregs of the ALDI ski gear when I decided such a thing could be useful, and a lady came out to the footpath with a wheelie bin and said "you match the sky". It was spectacular sunrise that morning. So here is a morning poem, that has something of Romans 1 about its ending.

Picture from here.

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
every morning,

whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.

from Dream Work (1986) by Mary Oliver © Mary Oliver

1 comment:

friv 7 said...

a poem morning, there's something about Romans 1 end of it. A poem quite impressed with what you can write us feel.