Saturday, November 19, 2005

In The Morning

. . . life is rich with possibilities. I hear and see and write.

In the morning...
I hear the sounds of two worlds
dream characters of myself
        talking in birdsong
        to air ducts
        expanding my insight.
Refrigerator hums
        its HUUUing sound
        to cool air
        this day's new heart.

In the morning...
Clock starts its stop
        every second
nature takes time
standing on end
like a flash-shot
        of midnight's rocket
riding the sound wave
of master's muse
        calling this day's aces,
dealing and drawing light
        for the flight
        back home to God.

In the morning...
I see the hand of night's dream
        still dawning.
Light shows
        from sleeping clouds
        of feathered pillows.
The candle lit late
        flickers out,
but not before igniting
        its puff of down smoke
        rising, then falling
        when spent.

In the morning...
Earth sun of east heads south,
        as dancers of day
        dress in yesterday's memories
        and tomorrow's dream
filtered by the lens
        of last night's
        far flight
        in western sky.
Light shadows still cling
        to the wings
        of rotation.

In the morning...
Insight and mind-work
        converses with sunshine.
Traffic starts first in heart's hearth,
        extending its handle
        to road stone.
Dreaming hearts 'cross town,
        country land
        'scape to sea
        and sail
off this earth curve
        by plan of your lord
        or freedom's eternity.

In the morning...
        the gods talk to me.
                In the morning

                    --ak 1/13/01


  1. I absolutely love this poem its beautifully expressive.

    Angel Blessings,

  2. r-
    and thanks for your kind words too. glad you're enjoying the visit.