It's early, 5 AM, and the sun is
just now lighting
the sky over the lake, darkness fading into blue, a pink-
vermilion giving way to clouds blurring into a new day;
and the sounds of the morning are low, barely heard,
the trees, their leaves and branches arustle, waking up,
the birds, too, unseen, their morning calls echoing softly,
and someplace off in the distance a dog barks, up early,
with me, watching the morning rise over the eastern shore;
a slight breeze is cool on my face, my bare feet,
but the coffee warms me, my hands wrapped around
a simple mug, standing here, listening, alone,
scarcely aware beyond this moment, a baroque morning composed;
and overhead, an eagle flies, content, silent on the wind, rising.
the sky over the lake, darkness fading into blue, a pink-
vermilion giving way to clouds blurring into a new day;
and the sounds of the morning are low, barely heard,
the trees, their leaves and branches arustle, waking up,
the birds, too, unseen, their morning calls echoing softly,
and someplace off in the distance a dog barks, up early,
with me, watching the morning rise over the eastern shore;
a slight breeze is cool on my face, my bare feet,
but the coffee warms me, my hands wrapped around
a simple mug, standing here, listening, alone,
scarcely aware beyond this moment, a baroque morning composed;
and overhead, an eagle flies, content, silent on the wind, rising.
Early mornings are very special.
ReplyDeleteI love the quiet and newness of the moment.