by Raymond Carver
So early it's still almost dark out.
I'm near the window with coffee,
and the usual early morning stuff
that passes for thought.
When I see the boy and his friend
walking up the road
to deliver the newspaper.
They wear caps and sweaters,
and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
They are so happy
they aren't saying anything, these boys.
I think if they could, they would take
each other's arm.
It's early in the morning,
and they are doing this thing together.
They come on, slowly.
The sky is taking on light,
though the moon still hangs pale over the water.
Such beauty that for a minute
death and ambition, even love,
doesn't enter into this.
Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
any early morning talk about it.
About the poem: I decided to read this poem based solely on the title. Then, I thought it's okay, maybe I'll go with it, and then I got to the last stanza, which won me over with the insertion of the word really. I'm not sure why, but the way that last sentence is written makes the poem more than just a typical poem.
About the actress: So she used a body double in Up In The Air; so what? It was, apparently, because she'd just given birth recently. There's still no denying that Vera Farmiga is a beautiful woman who doesn't appear to have had any plastic surgery, and plays good, interesting roles.