Poems and things

Yesterday I at last borrowed from my parents two books of collected poems, edited by Garrison Keillor. I have been wanting to read these poems since Mum and Dad first read from them to me last year. But one does not have time to read poetry whilst enrolled in the first year of grad school. But year one has come and gone (and I'm still alive!) and now I can delight in the deliciousness of these poems. And I can't wait. I fully intend on sharing my favourites with you, dear readers, and here is your first. Brent and I have been getting up early the past couple of weeks in an effort to use our days more efficiently and enjoy the middle-of-the-day sunshine when we can. (And interestingly enough, my friend Shannon made a similar decision right at the same time as us!) So this poem seemed apropos. At least by Raymond Carver I want to get up early one more morning, before sunrise. Before the birds, even. I want to throw cold water on my face and be at my work table when the sky lightens and smoke begins to rise from the chimneys of the other houses. I want to see the waves break on this rocky beach, not just hear them break as I did all night in my sleep. I want to see again the ships that pass through the Strait from every seafaring country in the world-- old, dirty freighters just barely moving along, and the swift new cargo vessels painted every color under the sun that cut the water as they pass. I want to keep an eye out for them. And for the little boat that plies the water between the ships and the pilot station near the lighthouse. I want to see them take a man off the ship and put another up on board. I want to spend the day watching this happen and reach my own conclusions. I hate to seem greedy--I have so much to be thankful for already. But I want to get up early one more morning, at least. And go to my place with some coffee and wait. Just wait, to see what's going to happen.