One More Hymn to the Sun

You know that like an ideal mother

she will never leave you,

though after a week of rain

you begin to worry

but you accept her brief absences,

her occasional closed doors

as the prerogative

of an eccentric lover . . .

You like the fact that her moods are an orderly version of yours,

arranged, like the needs of animals,

by seasons: her spring quirks,

her sexual summers,

her steadfast warmth in the fall;

you remember her face on Christmas Day,

blurred, and suffused with the weak smile

of a woman who has just given birth

The way she loves you, your whole body,

and still leaves enough space between you

to keep you from turning to cinders

before your time! . . .

She never gave up on you

though it took you billions of years

to learn the alphabet

and the shadow you cast on the ground

changed its shape again and again

- Lisel Mueller