Mary Oliver - Why I Wake Up Early
I would like to write a poem about the world that has in it nothing fancy. But it seems impossible. Whatever happens, the morning sun glimmers it. The tulip feels the heat and flaps it's petals open and becomes a star. The ants bore into the peony bud and there is the dark pinpoint prick of sweetness. As for the stones on the beach, forget it. Each one could be set in gold. So I tried with my eyes shut but of course the birds were singing. And the aspen trees were shaking the sweetest music out... Sign in to see full entry.