When I sit in my room
of many windows
especially at early morn
gratefulness fills me.
As the sun pokes through
the trees, there are
silken strings
hanging, shimmering
fine threads of the Master
who was weaving
while I slept.
I wonder
on this particular sunrise
as I watch them sway
caught in passing
by a trembled breeze . . .
how light of sun
can play upon them
fragile chords of morning song,
silent beads of glistening dew
ascending . . . descending
stretched across each silver filament
coloring hints of rainbow . . .
visible only in this brief encounter
spared with grace for early risers.
Joanne Cucinello 2008
personally i get up at somewhere between 2 and 4 am every day,, even my days off and spend those early morning hours with my writing... it is the best and most productive time of any day for me,, and i love it... this was a lovely ode to the blessing of being awake,, when the rest of the world is sleeping...
ReplyDeleteWow, what a photo, great poem also. Made my day here!
ReplyDeletePeace and love friend!
B
I find it to be such a fruitful time to write also, paisley, sacred and blessed. And it's very different from staying awake all night. . . it's a time filled with expectancy as a new day is born.
ReplyDeleteThanks!
Thanks, Calder . . . happy to have a poem of mine make your day! Hope it turned out special . ..
ReplyDeletePeace friend!
I like the last part of the first stanza best... from "As the sun pokes..."
ReplyDeleteIt just feels "shimmery".
Thank you Perry! So nice of you to comment. I'm glad you felt the "shimmers"!
ReplyDelete