The Sun

I just asked my roommate E what I should write about in my blog today. I am sitting by the kitchentable eating my oakporridge wanting to write something profound. The sun is shining through the windows - it's a beautiful day! 'The sun' E said. Of course. The sun. The summer is warming the land 'down under' now - with promise of beautiful lazy days by the beach in St.Kilda, icecream and Melbourne Cup Day! I found this nice poem online about the sun. It is written by Mary Oliver.

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?

But my sun is not the australian one, that burns your skin. No, my sun is the midnight sun - the one that never goes away. For me, it's not natural when its warm outside and dark at the same time. Dark=Cold, Light=Warm. And summernights are not for sleeping.

I guess this means I am starting to become a little bit homesick...