Endlessly hoeing
The drab rows
Of my garden,
I suddenly
Turn up
The Sun!
It was buried
There all along.
Its light breaks out.
I'm blinded!
I can't remember
Which was ground,
Which was sky,
What was garden
And where he
Ended and began,
That poor fellow
With the hoe!
Max Reif
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-sun-comes-up/
