Summer Threshold

The Sun
Have you ever seen anything in your life more wonderful

than the way the sun, every evening, relaxed and easy, floats toward the horizon

and into the clouds or the hills, or the rumpled sea, and is gone–and how it slides again

out of the blackness, every morning, on the other side of the world, like a red flower

streaming upward on its heavenly oils, say, on a morning in early summer, at its perfect imperial distance–and have you ever felt for anything such wild love–do you think there is anywhere, in any language, a word billowing enough for the pleasure

that fills you, as the sun reaches out, as it warms you

as you stand there, empty-handed–or have you too turned from this world–

or have you too gone crazy for power, for things?

Mary Oliver

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