A Poem for Saturday Morning

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A Note Left on the Door
By Mary Oliver


There are these: the blue

skirts of the ocean walking in now, almost

to the edge of town,


and a thousand birds, in their incredible wings

which they think nothing of, crying out


that the day is long, the fish are plentiful.


And friends, being as kind as friends can be,

striving to lift the darkness.


Forgive me, Lord of honeysuckle, of trees,

of notebooks, of typewriters, of music,

that there are also these:


the lover, the singer, the poet

asleep in the shadows.

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