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the first sigh of morning
breaking bread,
breaking waves,
breaking the light
in prisms
of affection
what energy
suffuses
the moments
before
morning breaks?
a songbird lingers,
I do too.
Last few words:
Had to write a poem about the gentler things in life and the energy that infuses all of us with life, no matter how it appears.
~A
Editing stage:
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Comments
Nordic cloud
Wed, 2012-03-07 08:29
As we lie there warm, still,
As we lie there warm, still, sensuously contented, the bird sings,
our essence is transported by the dust particles in the sunlight
and our partners smile a good morning.
The bread crumbs of you affection for breakfast :)
Ann.
"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.
Kailashana2
Wed, 2012-03-07 09:04
Indeed, Ann of Norway.
Indeed, Ann of Norway. Indeed. I live for these moments.
And how absolutely fortunate we are in these moments before the world-as-it-is falls on our shoulders, if it does. But then again there are days when nothing but joy abounds.
Morning hug.
~.
author commentNordic cloud
Mon, 2012-03-12 16:30
You know that I know that we
You know that I know that we know what it is.
I never cease to see, hear, smell, taste the morning,
am up and ready to fly, oh listen there's a great tit
"doing its nut"!! OO Spring is surely here.
Ann ,hug back for two.
"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.
Esker
Sat, 2012-03-10 17:21
peace and conflict
the morning smoke
the coffee
the prayers to the east
the sun washing
and then the din of
everyday with its joys
or mayhem
challenges
and gentle respites
and then waking up
hitting the ground running
like many do
serving others or
surviving to exist
here and in the world
a poem as you say to gentler
moments
Thank You!!
wesley snow
Sun, 2012-03-11 16:01
I'm wondering...
... do we have a sense of sigh? This pleasant little poem certainly provoked mine. Very nice and rather different for you. No politics, no pedantics, just sighs. wesley
W. H. Snow
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley
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scribbler
Sun, 2012-03-11 22:13
Hi Anna
simple and straightforward without being trite . Hope you don't take it wrong when I say this is an excellent "feel good" poem...........stan
Kailashana2
Mon, 2012-03-12 17:05
Thank you Ann, Esker, Wesley,
Thank you Ann, Esker, Wesley, and Stan.
I get it, and so do you.
~A
p.s. LOL. I would never have considered myself pedantic. "Characterized by a narrow, often ostentatious concern for book learning and formal rules."
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