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When you see this (if you haven't already) post your own!

Mornings Like This
a found poem by Annie Dillard

Sunday. What still sunny days we have now.
And I alone in them. So brief -
our best!

So much is wrong, but not my hills.

Mornings like this, I look
about the earth and the heavens -
there is not enough to believe.

A billion chances,
and I am here!

Pools in old woods, full of leaves.
Give me time enough in this place,
and I will surely create a beautiful thing

Yet there occur gaps in long winter evenings
that are hard to fill up
satisfactorily.

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merrily

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