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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
gone
crazy for power,
for
things?
Mary Oliver
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