In early morning,
when fear sets in
shrouding
the colour of the day
in blackened shades of grey,
I find my feet,
plant them carefully
on the slippery base of fear
that drains away
in the light of day.
“Fear doesn’t shut you down; it wakes you up.”
~ Veronica, Divergent
Leaves rustled
My kitty on alert, focussed
Barely a breath of wind
My book would have to wait
Two squirrels vying for the same branch
One scrambled higher
The other sat quietly and stared
At me?
At the black cat, hampered by a dumb leash,
desperately wanted to pounce.
Photo snapped, back to my book.
“Well, it may be humorous to you,
but it’s a very serious matter to the squirrels.”
~ Lisa Kleypas, author
[and to the cat]
~ Me
Rhythm
Began with slow waking
Picked up through the morning
discussion danced back and forth
over lunch and lemon spiked waters
Afternoon slow and easy
picking up stray tasks
chatting with neighbours
’til quiet underlined by
music and hum of the dishwasher
softened today's rhythm
“There is music wherever there is rhythm,
as there is life wherever there beats a pulse.”
~ Igor Stravinsky
Tomorrow’s work is full
of dreams,
of plans,
of goals
no form until the new day dawns,
curling quiet at our feet while
heads still rest on pillows, it
waits to be fed with new energy.
“Each day is always breaking out anew.
Aspirations swirling round what you do.”
~ Richard L. Ratliff, poet
I like Sundays.
In old memories.
attitudes shifted for
that Sunday moment.
A feeling of more
air to breathe.
I’ve not been
in a church
for many years,
but the silence is
a morning hymn.
I like Sundays.
“In the midst of the storm, your life boat appears. A psalm,
a hymn, a word…calming the fiercest winds of the soul.”
~ Roderick l. Evans, author
Hurry into the morning as
if it would escape. The victim
of an everyday chase that ends
when afternoon comes. Chase
slows as sun lowers itself t’ward
the horizon and the shadow of
the racer crosses the finish line
Hurry into the night, out of breath and wanting sleep to come quickly so the race can begin again in the morning. And what use is
the hurry,
the chase,
the race
when sun and moon don’t pay attention
to our funny little races through our lives.
“We have to slow the rhythm of our lives so that
the best of who we are can emerge.”
~ Lysa TerKeurst, author
I don’t like being alone.
Times when silence deafens.
~ when early morning is dark;
no traffic on the streets; wind
not furring thro' naked trees;
when I feel solitary; alone
in this building of families;
this city of workers
and lovers
and children.
times when my ears ringing are
the only sound that I hear
The cat is even silent, fed and content
~ not yet breathing his funny buzzsaw snore.
But I know that I have just
awakened in this early morning
~ that the building has yet to
yawn awake; the city still sleeps.
There may be another like me
across the street or across the city
who also feels the calming sound
of early morning silence.
“Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.”
~ Max Ehrmann, Desiderata
It begins in the morning
with the same words
the same order
A quiet list down a page
Ordinary thread for
each ordinary task
Beaded with secrets in
each moment of the day
A sketch to colour
with bend and stretch,
warm butter soaked toast,
laughing and living in
this world of my own design
This quiet list a map that shows
the direction of my choice
that may take me far from home
or a return to my world within
the comfort of home.
“Within this monotonous rhythm, there’s a gentle beat,
a melody that makes my soul smile.”
~ Vinitha Dileep, Routine
Inspired by the poem:
‘Routine’ by Vinitha Dileep
Illumination of the morning
slips between the threads
of the curtain til it gently
disturbs the dreams of the night.
The chitter of birds rides
each ray of light til I rub
the sleep from my eyes to
greet the morning with a yawn.
There is little more until I rise
to open the day before me.
“It’s morning, and again I am that lucky person who is in it.”
~ Mary Oliver
Inspired by the poetry of Mary Oliver
