Still very much enjoying my new volume of Mary Oliver's poetry~felt compelled to share this one.
A Thousand Mornings
All night my heart makes its way
however it can over the rough ground
of uncertainties, but only until night
meets and then is overwhelmed by
morning, the light deepening, the
wind easing and just waiting, as I
too wait (and when have I very been
disappointed?) for redbird to sing.
The long version of "weeping may endure for a night..."
ReplyDeleteAnd you'd think after a thousand mornings, we'd get it.
Delete