up far later than i'd like to be and when the morning comes it'll come hard and i'll hate it until after i dump an entire pot of coffee in to me and get that crazy buzz going but it was more than worth it and i'll know it even when my alarm sounds, angry and loud and shrill as a crow-
i've been reading sharon olds' "the gold cell" and on page 20 there is the perfect poem for today and for tomorrow and for all the days that will fall in line behind it. i'm tired and want to dream but i couldn't give in til i typed it here for you. it's too great and too lovely not to share:
When
I wonder now only when it will happen,
when the young mother will hear the
noise like somebody's pressure cooker
down the block, going off. She'll go out in the yard,
holding her small daughter in her arms,
and there, above the end of the street, in the
air above the line of trees,
she will see it rising, lifting up
over our horizon, the upper rim of the
gold ball, large as a giant
planet starting to lift up over ours.
She will stand there in the yard holding her daughter,
looking at it rise and glow and blossom and rise,
and the child will open her arms to it,
it will look so beautiful.
-Sharon Olds
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