Morning has Broken
First light mist clears – a blanket of green
bathed in morning dew beneath my feet...
a hush of tranquillity leaving me calm,
but for the dawn chorus that I love so...
few hours saved before I hear morning chaos,
sounding hum of traffic breaking this nirvana.
The swirl of pen leads me on a merry dance,
mind wandering – reflecting on the words...
knowing only rectitude counts, my best to see
me through to the end of my morning thoughts.
“Sit up straight – pay attention!”
my English teacher would say,
though I often wonder if the
ambit of my writing came from
those inner thoughts I desired,
now I sit and stare – the chill of a slight breeze
sends a shimmy across my skin, goose bumps
rise like hailstones after a storm, then recede
once more...sun's rays giving me desired comfort.
Words become difficult, like trying to climb the
mountain of my youth – so many moons ago...
smiling I watch as black bird sits amongst the
blossoms, preening feathers, oh yes! What of the
blossoms? So fair like a maiden to be wed, they
flush with delight. The tree those years deceive,
for it's much older than I care to remember...
I watch as the bees flight of fancy leads me on
a new day ahead. Wild primroses delicately grow,
seeds carried on the breeze, I smile at this gift of
mother nature, if I could...I would flit from bloom
to bloom, never stopping to rest, till the day is over
and night once more again returns, till a new morn.