Watching the Sun Come Up

Nancy Prouty March

August 2016

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.