Grass and Sand
Why I wake early
-- Mary Oliver
It is for the stillness,
for the silence of the heron
in the reeds,
for the glint of sun.
It is for the ripples of water,
for the wind gliding through the frond fingers
of the palmetto tree,
for the waves that smooth the sand and make the sea glass.
It is for the recklessly tumbling seafoam along the tideline.
I swear I’ve heard it giggle.
It is for the dunes.
It is for the reminder: this environment is precarious,
held together by grass and sand.
It is for the soft good morning from the gray-haired lady
who walks her gray-muzzled dog.
I am becoming one of her vintage faster than I realize. I just
don’t own a dog yet.
It is for the soft rhythm of sneakers hitting the pavement.
It is even for the thwack on the 14th tee.
It is for crisp air that fills
my lungs,
my blood.
It is for the poems I write in my head,
the ones that swirl with aimless abandon
and spill out into the salt breeze.
They’re held together by grass and sand
and will be forgotten before my pen
can hit the page.
It is for the ghosts I hold
in my heart; I have taken this path
many times.
It is for the sake of not missing a
single
moment.
It is why I wake early.
