Dawn Revisited
Imagine you wake up
with a second chance: The blue jay
hawks his pretty wares
and the oak still stands, spreading
glorious shade. If you don't look back,
.
the future never happens.
How good to rise in sunlight,
in the prodigal smell of biscuits--
eggs and sausage on the grill.
The whole sky is yours
to write on, blown open
to a blank page. Come on,
shake a leg! You'll never know
who's down there, frying those eggs,
if you don't get up and see.
Rita Dove
I love the symbolism of eggs at Easter. The season is awash with
new life, renewal, second chances and blue skies. As Dove says,
"the whole sky is yours". So, embrace the glorious optimism of the
season, dear bloggy friends. Come on, shake a leg!
![](http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1XbCsR5voz8/Sdtte8Yu9JI/AAAAAAAAD_s/1qF3A9Ha0Ss/s200/dove.jpg)
Rita Dove, 1952, was appointed Poet Laureate of the United States
in 1993, and received a second special appointment in 1999. Dove is
the second African American to receive the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry.
What a a happy poem. But the food, Willow! Now am going to have to go downstairs and get out a couple of free range eggs from happy chickens and cook!
ReplyDeleteOK, this is my second attempt to leave a message...
ReplyDeleteI love the poem and its revelance, but the egg photo, well, all I can say is "blah". I don't even color eggs at Easter...and my kids still love me!
Fantastic! I love your blog!
ReplyDeleteAm just reading your Angel at My Table post and the lovely song Angel by Sara McLachlan is playing on my Last FM Library.
ReplyDeleteI must catch the Janet Frame book, thanks for the info.
I love this..the second chance is a #1 wish..and the idea that you'll never know who's down there unless you go! I'm going!!
ReplyDeleteWills,
ReplyDeleteFirst of all, love the new slate color.
Second of all, thank you for helping me decide what to eat tomorrow morning!
Eggs! Eggs! I MUST have eggs!
I will poach them and have some toasted whole-wheat bread, and a double espresso.
mmmmmmm...
Nice picture, but I prefer my eggs thoroughly cooked.
ReplyDeleteGreat poem, I like "The whole sky is yours to write on......
Happy Easter!
Lovely positive poem!
ReplyDeleteGoodness, just imagine Maureen and I went downstairs, and there were a whole lot of our bloggy friends, frying eggs for us!
I think eggs are my absolutely favourite comfort food! Am I the only one I wonder, who likes them poached?
ReplyDeleteKat
I just had to remark on "Easter Parade". I loved that movie as a little girl, especially when they put on their Easter Bonnets to stroll up the avenue. I must dig that up this weekend!
ReplyDeleteKat
You know, an omelet would be divine right now...
ReplyDeleteUnfortunately dorm rooms don't come equipped with kitchens. Maybe a trip to Waffle House is in order. =D
Loved the poem, Willow. Keep em' coming!
Love the happy snappy sentiment of this poem! I especially love this visual: "The whole sky is yours to write on, blown open to a blank page"
ReplyDeleteBut, I have to admit....I HATE fried eggs. Blach!
Your picture of them is pretty though, if that's any consolation.
Such a wonderful poem! And I've got to thank Poetikat for the reminder of how great is Easter Parade... will dig it out for the grandkids tomorrow!
ReplyDeleteJane
I'm starving now too. I'd love a couple of eggs and rye bread right about now...
ReplyDeleteWhat a great poem to read every morning ... to remind us how good it is to rise in sunlight every day. It is. This poem definitely puts an exciting spin on the day.
ReplyDeleteSo Easter-like. Beautiful. It has always been my favorite holiday.
ReplyDeleteLovely photo, Willow!
ReplyDeleteOh Willow. I have to post an old 2002-3 photog of mine just for you--eggs on plates. Thanks for the Rita Dove bit. I first met her in a Humanities class in undergraduate. What a shame...
ReplyDeleteNice poem and a wonderful lady here, you introduce. ach! I should have waited to read this...now I'm really hungry and have to go to work!
ReplyDeleteG-pup always makes me eggs on the weekend. Buttery with crispy edges. It worth the other meals I make throughout the week. Lovely positive poem too.
ReplyDeletePoetikat- guess who likes 'em poached?
Loved this.
ReplyDeleteYou inspired me. Tomorrow (Thursday) I am acknowledging you and your reminder of National Poetry Month.
Stop by tomorrow if you can: http://www.boomerbabybliss-bfs.blogspot.com
See you later. And PS, I prefer mine softly scrambled.
Lovely poem . . . fine picture (the blue willow plate is perfect with the yolk . . . and I like your new header with the cobalt bottle!
ReplyDeleteMust have fried eggs tomorrow morning.
Poetikat -- I like to poach an egg in a pot of ramen soup.
great poem. easter, spring...is an amazing time of year, everything coming back to life. happy TT and easter!
ReplyDeleteI like that poem a lot. We had hard-boiled eggs in a spinach salad tonight, and I was thinking how much I enjoyed it. I saved the shells and Joe's coffee grinds today to go into the garden. Another renewal.
ReplyDeleteI just posted on my blog and I guess the theme is eggs, however, mine was not edible and drawn by my granddaughter! But...I just went Vegan due to trying to reverse diabetes and I am now DYING to have an egg. It is really hard to not have eggs, cheese and milk. I just might have to slightly modify if I keep seeing pictures by you. Love you new picture of the kerosene lamp. Great!
ReplyDeleteThanks for the intro to Dove!
ReplyDeletei love rita dove's work.... she always seems to be able to embrace my soul.
ReplyDeletethose eggs in the snap are perfect, you can come up and make our sunday breakfast any time - I'll throw in a room, some cuddly cats and a guided tour of the north coast! recognize the plates is that what willow manor is named for?? my 'adopted' brother ken has that very pattern and I always feel embraced when I see it....
most eggcellent...my first theme thursday read!!
I have just come from a seder supper at my chapel. Our priest loves having this as it teaches the origins of the eucharist. It is actually a passover meal celebrating the Jews' deliverance from Egypt, among other things.
ReplyDeleteA roasted egg (I really think it was boiled) is one of the symbolic foods. It represents new life. Four cups of wine are also part of this meal ...and music. We all had to shake a leg and clean up. The college kids loved it!
perfect post for easter, willow!
ReplyDeleteSuch a wonderful, happy week this is!! And I adore the poem!
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for the sweet Happy Birthday wish you left for me! I had a lovely day. It snowed!
Nothin' like the smell of sausage, eggs and biscuits to lead me out of the fog of sleep!! MMMM
ReplyDeletecould it be that I am seeing Burleighware blue willow?
ReplyDeletewhen is breakfast?
I cooked eggs for dinner tonight. Yours look like they are cooked perfectly. Is that sunny side up or over easy?
ReplyDeleteGreat poem there. Totally time for rebirth and renewal. Sky writing is something new to picture too.
God bless.
Willow,
ReplyDeleteA glorious post,the intention of renewal, rebirth and the poem by Dove- breathtaking ! Hugs from France!!!!:)
ps I love when kids play games they say"do over,let's do a do over"
A perfect poem for spring.
ReplyDeleteshake a leg! and a hip too. :D
ReplyDeleteI'm feeling very spring like over here... we've had a wonderful start to the season weatherwise.. and the promise of family gatherings and chocolate this weekend. What a beautiful, upbeat poem you posted.... makes me hungry.. think I be having eggs for lunch.... ;)
ReplyDeleteYour pictures are always so beautiful...
ReplyDeleteLove the poem and love the new look of your blog!
ReplyDeleteHello Willow,
ReplyDeleteWhat a great poem! So appropriate for the season. Wouldn't it be good if we could write across the sky?! And who is frying those eggs??
Wonderful photo and poem! I was just thinking of going to youtube to look up Easter Parade- my favorite, when I saw you have it here! Your blog always stikes a sweet chord. Well, time to shake a leg!
ReplyDeleteWhat a great poem and exhortation! I feel hopeful now.
ReplyDelete"... the whole sky is yours to write on, ...
ReplyDeleteRita Dove is such a gifted wordshmith. Thank you for this beautiful Thursday poem!
I remember fondly those years when she was Poet Laureate of the United States, sightings of her at the Library of Congress and her poetry column in the Book Section of the Washington Post.
I used to wake up early in the morning to the sound of my grandfather in the kitchen, frying eggs and ham. I still get that memory every time I fix breakfast, and this post reminded me of it.
ReplyDeleteReally beautiful post and symbol here!And also,yummy picture of course.
ReplyDeleteHappy Easter!:)
I'm way ahead of ya, Scratchy had the urge way too early this AM...but now I know what's for breakfast...
ReplyDeletePoetry be d..., its that brekkie I'd like to share!
ReplyDeletewonderful poem. you fry your eggs hard i guess. nice plate. happy eggster.
ReplyDeletegreat verse, wonderful thoughts and terrific photo. thank you!
ReplyDeleteKat, I loved poached eggs, too! In fact, I never met an egg I didn't like...over easy, sunny side up, eggs benedict, egg salad, deviled, scrambled, omelettes...YUM!
ReplyDeleteCollette, it's an old set of Johnsons Brothers Blue Willow. I've had it since the late '70s and just recently got it out again. I adore it!
ReplyDeleteYuk - I hate eggs unless they come in cake form - or disguised as chocolate.
ReplyDeleteEggs and Rita Dove-now that's a great combination!
ReplyDeleteA Portuguese way to enjoy these eggs is with a good fried chourizo. Sometimes, my mom used to make scrambled eggs with chopped parsley or coriander,caramelized onions,and sliced chorizo, and serve it with watercress salad.
As for Rita Dove, I was introduced to her on a Women's Poetry class and truly enjoy her books.
http://a-room-of-one-s-own.blogspot.com/2007/05/being-in-poets.html
xox
Isabel
Love the poem, thanks for sharing it! Have a great day! :)
ReplyDeleteJoyouos poetry! I love the egg fest at Easter, but not long after, we are all sick of boiled eggs. Now, the chocolate ones could go on and on forever.
ReplyDeleteYes ma'am! I never disagree with Rita.
ReplyDeleteGreat phrase... love the lines "...shake a leg! You'll never know who's down there, frying those eggs, if you don't get up & see."
ReplyDeleteNice photo!
Thank you for the poem...
ReplyDeleteIn Greece we color our eggs red. It is great time the Easter one. Time to think, celebrate and be with your family lol
Have a great day :-)
xoxo
What a great poem and a delicious photo. Makes me wish I could come over for breakfast. ;-)
ReplyDelete'If you don't look back, the future never happens'. It's so true. That was my favourite line. If we don't analyse our past we're bound to make the same mistakes again. Many thanks for the photo, the poem and the article.
ReplyDeleteGreetings from London.
Rita Dove - how wonderful to be reminded of her poetry. Thank you for sharing that poem, Willow. Now I must go and find my treasured copy (a gift from my daughter) of 'American Smooth' and settle down to some blissful re-reading.
ReplyDeleteOh yum - those eggs look like perfection to me. Especially on that beautiful plate - the yellow and the blue just sing together, don't you agree?
My dad made the best sunnyside up eggs ever
ReplyDeleteFirst of all, wow. You have quite a popular blog here. Thanks for taking a moment to visit 'Follow Your Bliss'. I appreciate it.
ReplyDeleteThis post reminds me of being a child visiting my grandparents in Ohio. Everyday we would awaken to the smell of eggs and bacon. Very comforting. I haven't thought of that in year. Thanks for reminding me of pleasant memories.
Good rousing prima vera stuff. Cheered me up whilst the rain fell and fell.
ReplyDeleteLove the poem; love the symbolism of the eggs at Easter - happy easter to you willow.
ReplyDeleteI just wish I could eat them. They were one of my favorites before I found out I was alergic, bummer.
ReplyDeleteEggs are hard to make look good except those cracked ones that emits a peep.
ReplyDeleteI love that yellow yolk against the bold blue of the plate.
ReplyDeleteGreat poem and good looking eggs...I love eggs! Your dishes are perfect for Willow Manor.
ReplyDeleteBut you're all backwards . .it's Autumn down under! Still love eggs sunny side up . .even in the fall!
ReplyDelete2 things, Willow, completely unrelated to eggs.
ReplyDeleteI just watched a documentary on Seurat. Are you familiar with the topiary of his Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte found in your home state?
Also I live in my city's Little Poland and your favourite pottery is everywhere.
Have a Happy Easter. I've been told by the boys not to blog this weekend but I'm sure I will.
Hi Willow!
ReplyDeleteJust had to say 'Three cheers for the FOX-x button!'
Enjoying all the poetry.
Have a mahvelous weekend, dahling.
Catherine
well! this is a fine reminder to live now and love large! thanks, willow, a very helpful poem for me this evening.
ReplyDeletei love eggs too. not as much as potatoes though.
:)
wonderful photo - the willow pattern plate is somehow just perfect for eggs and toast
ReplyDeleteHave a happy Easter whether you are looking for eggs or eating them. Pappy
ReplyDeletewhat a fine poem.Do you know what it reminds me of? I,m oh,maybe 9 years old?Coming back from Mass with my older brother........we have fasted all morning.....we open the house door & smell My Mother's cooked breakfast ........ (she,at the time,hadnt yet become a Catholic) .
ReplyDeleteSmell can invoke the Past as Well as the Future.....
The fried eggs shot makes me want to go to the kitchen and make some right now! :-)))
ReplyDeleteAnswering to your question, Santo António is the patron of lovers, a kind of matchmaker, I may say.
My literary knowledge is admittedly spotty where poets are concerned. Thanks for shining a spotlight on Rita Dove.
ReplyDeleteClever Pup, yes, I love the Sunday Afternoon painting and have seen it several times at the Art Institute of Chicago. (I was actually born a Hoosier in the state of Indiana, but lived from ages 9-13 in Illinois.)
ReplyDeleteYou egg shot has now made me hungry for breakfast. Damn, now I'll have to take a break and go make something!
ReplyDelete"You'll never know who's down there, frying those eggs, if you don't get up and see."
ReplyDelete...These are my favorite lines for several reasons...one is that they remind me of my childhood Sunday mornings when my family would awaken to the smell of bacon and fried eggs that my father always prepared....the only thing he ever cooked and will always be fondly remembered...
I'm going to start copying all the wonderful poems I find while reading blogs...this is another great one...Thanks!
Guess who's having an omelet tomorrow? Oh yes... :)
ReplyDeleteHappy Easter early!
Sarah
Gee I love a fried egg...
ReplyDeleteGIrl! you have 83 comments! THat's wild! I don't know how you find the time to visit everyone, write every day, and make meals from scratch... Maybe because Ghosts clean out the drawers? Can you get them to do the floors while they're at it?
ReplyDeleteI really loved this poem, and have been enjoying finding all kinds of poets here... Thank you and I'm going to seek out more of her work...
Hi! Willow,
ReplyDeleteThanks, for sharing the poem and the very "detailed" I can almost "smell" breakfast!(Picture of, at least..close enough!)
Deedee ;-D