Watching the Sun Come Up
Nancy Prouty March
Mary Oliver once wrote a poem —Why I WakeEarly.
This morning I sit in peace on a weathered bench
watching the sun rise amidst the morning's purple haze.
Water laps against the seaweed laden rocks
while seagulls flap their wings and coast
along the tide meeting a new day.
The slow murmur of a lobster boat's engine
disrupts the silence that hovers in the trees
along the rocky coast.
It is here in this space, in the reverence of the moment
my spirit awakens and begins nourishing me for the day.
Something about the Great Blue Heron
and the smell of salty brine awakens the essence of who is me.