“Morning”

My beautiful picture

My beautiful picture

Sometimes you write a poem to dispel the demons of darkness. It is a particular touchstone that comforts, soothes the fearful breast.

MORNING

 

A wedge of sullen moon

Pales above

As life awakes beneath.

 

Birdsong threads through

Trees, a staccato cacophony

Anointing the air

Like colored ribbons

Weaving back and forth

The timbre ever changing.

 

Green spring trees, tender, tender

An early nursery of life

Can anything be wrong with the world?

 

The hammock swings gently of its own accord

Perhaps a haunt, a ghost,

Sleeping an extra hour before

Vaporizing in the morning mist.

 

Faint gunshots last night

Where someone would

Impose their vile humanity

And we are startled for a moment

Until reclaimed by sleep.

 

Morning hoot of a sleepy owl

Echoes the cry of a distant train

While seed pods from the maple

Flutter to the ground,

Airborne whirligigs.

 

We have survived the dark, again,

Its blackened mysteries,

Uneasy, things that could stop up

Our breath.

We are cradled in Nature’s promise

Of life again beginning with each day.

The moon above yawns, fades and disappears.

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2017

 

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7 Responses to ““Morning””

  1. phoartetry Says:

    Yes, our going on… morning, and it’s up to us to make the best of the new day…even with disaster, fear and uneasy darkness in the night.

    It is Nature’s promise definitely gives me hope and peace of mind; inspires me to keep going on.

    As always, Jane another poem to ponder on.

    Sorry I haven’t been on lately My younger sister, a very talented artist, her paint brushes now silent by Pancreatic Cancer. Sunday she passed away. After she was diagnosed and given only months to live, and unbeknownst to any of her family, she hand-painted each of us a card with a different verse written inside. She put each card in a brown bag with our each of our names written on the outside, and asked her daughter to hand them out at the funeral home. The last five months of her life She also kept a journal and left notes on pieces of papers, all over the house, of her thoughts on life and death.

    Heartbreaking! 🙏🏻 RIP Debbie (she was only 65)

    Like

  2. ladynyo Says:

    Oh, Connie, I am so, so sorry. I am so sorry for your loss and your families loss. 65 is young and that particular cancer is fierce.

    Yes, the world situation is dark and complex. Nature is the God I turn to in all of this. It is the one constant and non putative thing in my life and always has been.

    Again Connie, I am so sorry for your loss. I don’t have a sister, basically I have no siblings at all…and no functioning parents, but I do feel your loss.

    Love, Jane

    Liked by 1 person

  3. phoartetry Says:

    Thank you Jane. It”s been a tough year and a half four our family. Better times are a coming.

    Like

  4. ladynyo Says:

    Yes, Connie. We have to believe and live on that. Love from here.

    Like

  5. phoartetry Says:

    Hugs back.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Nick Says:

    In spite of the crap that’s going on in the world, you have created a welcome moment of beauty and quiet reflection with the promise of a new and hopefully better day ahead. This is a superb poem with a wonderful use of language and imagery.

    Like

  7. ladynyo Says:

    Thanks, Nick. I’ve thought a lot about our role as poets and writers today. I think we have a role to address the crap as you say in the world, but also…to create those comforting areas for people and us. We can’t always be marching and angry. It ages us a lot and saps our energy. I know.

    I’m so glad you liked this poem, Nick. I appreciate your eye and intellect on these things very much.

    Like

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