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| from this morning’s (almost dark) early morning walk |
While I Am Writing a Poem to Celebrate Summer, the Meadowlark Begins to Sing
Sixty-seven years, oh Lord, to look at the clouds,
the trees in deep, moist summer,
daisies and morning glories
opening every morning
their small, ecstatic faces –
Or maybe I should just say
how I wish I had a voice
like the meadowlark’s,
sweet, clear, and reliably
slurring all day long
from the fencepost, or the long grass
where it lives
in a tiny but adequate grass hut
beside the mullein and the everlasting,
the faint-pink roses
that have never been improved, but come to bud
then open like little soft sighs
under the meadowlark’s whistle, its breath-praise,its thrill-song, its anthem, its thanks, its
alleluia. Alleluia, oh Lord.~Mary Oliver
Hope your longest day of the year is a good one!
mere-et-filles 
Perfect for the summer solstice!
Beautiful! Thank you. Happy Solstice!
Beautiful poem and beautiful daisies to accompany it! I love the lines about faint-pink roses that have never been improved then open like little soft sighs. I have a rose bush like that, and am so glad you shared Mary Oliver's perfect description. Thank you!
Lovely…and was I ever surprised to learn that for us here in EDT,the solstice isn't until tomorrow!
So lovely! Happy solstice. XO
Beautiful! Happy solstice! XO
Sixty-seven years! My age. Thank you for posting this perfect poem for the first day of summer.
What lovely pictures those words paint!