Breaking Day

Morning breaks gently,

As late winter’s sleepy sunrise

Streams eagerly through my window.

The cold night is curtailed;

My bedroom warmed from the outside.

 

Peace abides in me, solitary;

Silent and unmoving, undisturbed.

The choice is mine to be free,

In this instant and all that follow,

To warm myself from the inside.

Advertisements

Nature’s Missive

Amber streetlight glows softly,
Illuminating dancing snowflakes
Caught and carried on currents.
Whipping then floating, inconsistently,
Erratic and fanciful, spirited.
Then, finally comes tranquility.
Nature’s revelation to me;
Awakened to my liberty.

Morning Mist

An early morning autumn drive leads down country roads, splitting farmers’ fields freshly harvested. A fog hangs heavy in the air, tangible and sweet. The silent morning is further insulated by this condensation. As the sun ascends on the horizon, an orange glow is cast across the golden pastures. Then, drifting gradually over a recently reaped cornfield, a thicker cloud-like fog is discernible. Two thin wisps of thick mist, pure white and substantial. They appear as ghostly fingers, reaching out for touch. They swell and become like a veil, pulled over the surface of the day made so tranquil.