sábado, enero 20, 2018

This Morning



This morning was something.
A little snow

lay on the ground.
The sun floated in a clear blue sky.
The sea was blue, and blue-green,
as far as the eye could see.

Scarcely a ripple.
Calm.
I dressed and went
for a walk -- determined not to return
until I took in what Nature had to offer.

I passed close to some old, bent-over trees.

Crossed a field strewn with rocks
where snow had drifted.
Kept going
until I reached the bluff.

Where I gazed at the sea, and the sky, and
the gulls wheeling over the white beach
far below.
All lovely.
All bathed in a pure
cold light.
But, as usual, my thoughts
began to wander.
I had to will
myself to see what I was seeing
and nothing else.
I had to tell myself this is what
mattered, not the other.
(And I did see it,
for a minute or two!) For a minute or two
it crowded out the usual musings on
what was right, and what was wrong -- duty,
tender memories, thoughts of death, how I should treat
with my former wife.
All the things
I hoped would go away this morning.

The stuff I live with every day.
What
I've trampled on in order to stay alive.

But for a minute or two I did forget
myself and everything else.
I know I did.

For when I turned back i didn't know
where I was.
Until some birds rose up
from the gnarled trees.
And flew
in the direction I needed to be going.






Raymond Carver 



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