Oh, yesterday, that one, we all cry out. Oh, that one! How rich and possible everything was! How ripe, ready, lavish, and filled with excitement--how hopeful we were on those summer days, under the clean, white racing clouds. Oh, yesterday!
Mary Oliver (2000). “Winter Hours: Prose, Prose Poems, and Poems”, p.28, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
