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.

Added: on July 20th, 2005 at 6:46 PM | Viewed: 10675 times | Comments (3)

Poet: Mary Oliver
Poem: Morning Poem
Volume: Dream Work
Year: Published/Written in 1986
Poem of the Day on:
Sep 29 2003

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, Morning Poem, has received 3 comments. Click here to read them, and perhaps post a comment of your own. Of course you can also always discuss poems by Mary Oliver with others on the Poetry Connection poetry forum!