Morning Poem
by Mary Oliver
Every morning the worldis created.
Under the orange sticks of the sunthe heapedashes of the nightturn into leaves again
and fasten themselves to the high branches and the ponds appearlike black clothon which are painted islands of summer lilies.
If it is your natureto be happy you will swim away along the soft trails
for hours, your imagination a lighting everywhere.
And if your spiritcarries within it the thornthat is heavier than lead if it's all you can doto keep on trudging there is stillsomewhere deep within youa beast shouting that the earthis exactly what it wanted each pond with its blazing liliesis a prayer heard and answeredlavishly, every morning, whether or notyou have ever dared to be happy, whether or not you have ever dared to pray.
from Dream Work (1986) by Mary Oliver
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