“Our” star

Why I Wake Early

Hello, sun in my face.
Hello, you who make the morning
and spread it over the fields
and into the faces of the tulips
and the nodding morning glories,
and into the windows of, even, the
miserable and the crotchety —

best preacher that ever was,
dear star, that just happens
to be where you are in the universe
to keep us from ever-darkness,
to ease us with warm touching,
to hold us in the great hands of light —
good morning, good morning, good morning.

Watch, now, how I start the day
in happiness, in kindness.

Mary Oliver

.
This morning, very early, before the storm clouds swept in from the west, I was able to witness the eclipsed orange moon hang tenderly in the diminishing starry sky; its coloured beauty totally dependent upon the very sun that Mary Oliver so eloquently writes about in her newly released poem (received in yesterday’s mail).

And, although my little camera wasn’t able to catch this particular wonder, the same star light powering the moon’s beauty, was as piercingly beautiful bouncing off the cliffs of Roaring Beach.

The squall has passed and I now sit in the far corner reading more of Mary’s poems, letting the sun stream into the house and touch me also with its healing light; letting me, once again, start the day in happiness, in kindness.