Morning came.
Care returns--
We make our way
Unfolding--
We wake.
Amnestic night, into
Shadows receding,
Beading in early hours
Under light, one light
Over thought,
Unfurling flowers.
One learns
Of all life needing
A single flame.
A beautiful reflection on the glory of morning.
ReplyDeleteMorning glories always remind me of my grandmother's yard - - so peaceful and so long ago. I tried to grow some here in Texas but, of course, they perished in the heat.
Jon-- I guess we're both up late tonight. Thank you for reading my poem! Norma is growing this marvel in a box of soil she mixed herself. Ground hereabouts is too nitrogen poor to manage it.
ReplyDeleteI remember first learning about morning glories as a child, reading On the Banks of Plum Creek by Laura Ingalls Wilder. A lot of what I learned came from books and not the outside world... I never actually saw the flower until we came back to the states and I was in my grandma's garden.
ReplyDeleteLove this poem...
Geo, I have always loved morning glories and the poem is lovely!
ReplyDeleteMany thanks for the visit and kind words.
So nice to meet you!
It's such a beautiful climbing flower too, well deserving an accompanying poem!
ReplyDeleteVery nice poem. :)
ReplyDeleteHope you write some more soon!
Morning glories! Have not seen those in years here in our SoCalif weather.
ReplyDeleteOn the farm, they grew in abundance. They mostly loved the east side of the outhouse.