Have you ever seen

anything

in your life

more wonderful  

than the way the sun,

every evening,

relaxed and easy,

floats toward the horizon  

and into the clouds or the hills,

or the rumpled sea,

and is gone--

and how it slides again  

out of the blackness,

every morning,

on the other side of the world,

like a red flower  

streaming upward on its heavenly oils,

say, on a morning in early summer, at its perfect imperial distance--

and have you ever felt for anything

such wild love--

do you think there is anywhere,

in any language,

a word billowing enough for the pleasure  

that fills you,

as the sun reaches out,

as it warms you  

as you stand there,

empty-handed--

or have you too turned from this world--  

or have you too

gone crazy

for power,

for things?      

-Mary Oliver
The Sun