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