Nancy Scott wrote this poem.
By Nancy Scott
When I was a girl and lived in the city
I used to get up early, stand at the window of my tiny apartment
to watch the dawn break over the tall buildings.
I called my ritual “welcoming the light,” and I loved it,
loved letting the day come to me with whatever it had to give,
loved letting it happen, letting it be okay.
Now that I’m older I spend many evenings on the screen porch
watching the sun set over misty mountains.
Buddhists call this practice “sitting with the dying day,”
and I love this meditation, love doing it,
observing the mellow light for as long as it lasts,
then letting it go, letting it be okay.