Morning

Este es un poema de Mary Oliver, una escritora norteamericana a quien descubri recientemente y que me gusta mucho. Si tengo algun deseo para este anno, es poder estar lo suficientemente despierta y atenta como Mary Oliver cuando escribio esto.

Morning, de Mary Oliver

Salt shining behind its glass cylinder.
Milk in a blue bowl. The yellow linoleum.
The cat stretching her black body from the pillow.
The way she makes her curvaceous response to the small, kind gesture.
Then laps the bowl clean.
Then wants to go out into the world
where she leaps lightly and for no apparent reason across the lawn,
then sits, perfectly still, in the grass.
I watch her a little while, thinking:
what more could I do with wild words?
I stand in the cold kitchen, bowing down to her.
I stand in the cold kitchen, everything wonderful around me.