there's something about mary (oliver)

I have loved this poem since I don't know when.

Morning Poem - Mary Oliver

Every morning
the world
is created
under the orange

sticks of the sun.
The heaped
ashes of the night
turn into leaves again,

and fasten themselves to the high branches -
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands

of summer lilies.
If it is your nature
to be happy,
you will swim away along the soft trails

for hours, your imagination
alighting everywhere.
And if you spirit
carries within it

the thorn
that is heavier than lead -
if its all you can do
to keep on trudging -

there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what it wanted -

each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
lavishly,
every morning,

whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.