Why I Wake Early

A last look at the sunny beach before summer’s end, and a poem by Mary Oliver (b. 1935), whose birthday it is today. (This is not an upload glitch—the Indian Village watercolor paper actually is irregularly shaped.)


Hello, sun in my face.
Hello, you who made 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

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