Welcome morning!

What sparks you? What lifts your spirits and makes your mood soar?

For me, it is a certain kind of poetry I call ecstatic poetry.

Poets (mystical poets especially) love to light us up! As proof, I found an email message in my inbox this morning from Daniel Ladinsky, translator of the Hafiz poem That Sweet Moon Language in my previous blog, saying

"Thank you for sharing my work with others."

How Daniel found my blog so quickly I have no idea! I am deeply honored to share his exquisite translations.

This morning, lines of Anne Sexton's celebratory poem, Welcome Morning, run through my memory before I even open my eyes:

There is joy

in all:

in the hair I brush each morning, . . .

in the chapel of eggs I cook

each morning

in the outcry from the kettle

that heats my coffee

each morning . . .

Through Anne’s reverent eyes I meet my morning routine as ritual.

All this is God,

right here in my pea-green house

each morning . . .

and I mean

though often forget,

to give thanks,

to faint down by the kitchen table

in a prayer of rejoicing

as the holy birds at the kitchen window

peck into their marriage of seeds.

How can we hear such contagious joy without pouring meaning into our daily routines, stirring up poetry of our own?

So while I think of it,

let me paint a thank-you on my palm

for this God, this laughter of the morning,

lest it go unspoken.

With her warning in mind, my personal poetry would sound something like this . . .

There is beauty all over my bed

this morning.

In the bristle of Ted’s brow on my lips

this morning

In gentle rain on the roof

this morning

In soft cat kisses on my cheek as Maya kneads a memory

of her mother into my pillow

this morning,

In the bubbling of my [Coach's] oatmeal

this morning

in the hummingbirds around their feeder

seeking an early Spring

this morning.

Heaven on earth in my beloved hillside home

this morning

In having one more day to love my life.

I forget to be anywhere but now

offering heartful praise

for bountiful waves of bliss

this morning.

In reciting our own appreciation, our lives, and our morning breakfast cups, overflow with gratitude. We transform the ordinary into the extraordinary.

Anne Sexton’s poem ends:

The joy that isn't shared I've heard,

dies young.

So--I’d love to know—how does your morning sound?

P.S. May I share another delicious discovery? It is the new brand of Coach's Oatmeal, available in large bags at Costco. It truly tastes like the Scottish brand you need to simmer forever, but takes only five minutes.