The
Love of Morning
It
is hard sometimes to drag ourselves
back
to the love of morning
after
we've lain in the dark crying out
O
God, save us from the horror . . .
God
has saved the world
one more day
even
with its leaden burden of human evil;
we
wake to birdsong.
And
if sunlight's gossamer lifts in its net
the
weight of all that is solid,
our
hearts, too, are lifted,
swung
like laughing infants;
but
on gray mornings,
all
incident — our own hunger,
the
dear tasks of continuance,
the
footsteps before us in the earth's
beloved
dust, leading the way — all,
is
hard to love again
for
we resent a summons
that
disregards our sloth, and this
calls
us, calls us.
-Denise
Levertov, "The Love of Morning"
Reposted from this dear friend's blog
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