The Sun, by Mary Oliver

Have you ever seen


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,


or have you too

turned from this world—–


or have you too

gone crazy

for power,

for things?


A word of warning: my new book just arrived. I will try not to simply wave Oliver’s wonderous words your way over the next while, but I’m making no promises…


22 thoughts on “words

  1. This is wonderful!

    (Just a word of warning: I know someone who was threatened with a huge fee for publishing a poem in full without permission…. the etiquette I believe is to quote a section of the poem, with credit to the author and if possible a link to their web page)

  2. One of the best poets on the planet. I remember pre-internet days getting her via Silver Moon in London (alas long-gone). Envy you!

  3. Coincidence – I have a photo of the setting sun at Ballintoy Harbour on my desktop at the moment and was sitting soaking the atmosphere in before I opened this post! Great words.

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