Silver Morning Light

Morning Poem (Mary Oliver)
Every morning
the world
is created
under the orange

sticks of the sun
the heaped
ashes of the night
turn into leaves again

and fasten themselves to the high branches-
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands

of summer lilies.
If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails

for hours, your imagination
alighting everywhere.
And if your spirit
carries within it

the thorn
that is heavier than lead-
if it's all you can do
to keep on trudging-

there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what you wanted-

each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
lavishly,
every morning,

whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.

On the morning that I took these photos I woke up earlier than usual and, being alone, (Daryl was in Idaho) I stepped out to the end of the dock, just to see and absorb morning dew and such a calmness on the lake. It was as quiet as it is at night, which surprised me. Even the moon can still be seen in the center of the sky. It was a very peaceful start to the day, and, a new view of appreciation for me, since our usual enjoyment is evening time.