Rain | A poem by Raymond Carver, 1938-1988

Imogen Cunningham, The Unmade Bed, 1957

Woke up this morning with
a terrific urge to lie in bed all day
and read. Fought against it for a minute.

Then looked out the window at the rain.
And gave over. Put myself entirely
in the keep of this rainy morning.

Would I live my life over again?
Make the same unforgiveable mistakes?
Yes, given half a chance. Yes.

Raymond Carver (1938-88) 


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