Friday 7 September 2018

Morning Has Broken

The fetal moon is cradled in cumulus 
Like a marionette, 
She is lifted from the stage 
Away from the spotlight on dawn  

As water boils for my early morning tea 
Strips of stratus redden the horizon 
Slowly, slowly, slowly 
A sliver of light expands to reveal  
The crown of a new day 

A chorus of boisterous birds  
Announces this blessed event  

My breathing is laboured  
As I head through the door, 
Camera clutched in hand, 
My black bag in another 
Quickly stocked with necessities  
Of paper, pen and a thermos  
Of honeyed elixir 

I race through unseen lines 
Of silk 
Stranded between the pathway, 
Then am christened  
With a sudden  
Suggestion of rain  
Washing away  
The gossamer artistry  

I am drawn to the dawn, 
The nature of softness,  
Clouds gilded with light  

Herons search  
For gifts in the shoreline; 
I have found mine - 
Words of elation 
Are delivered to mind
      

No comments:

Post a Comment