Sunday, July 25, 2010

Verse: soft morning

sunday arrives
once more
without fanfare

the cool morning air
is not so bold
to knock at our door

it waits
instead for us
to come outside

where everything
is vague
and hasty as a sketch

so we
fill in
missing details

adding dog walkers
with a brisk
purposeful stride

crows cackling
at some joke
unknown to us

drowsy oaks and elms
stirred from
their slumbers

by jubilant hymns
and the chatter
of occasional cars

and clouds that drool
at the scent of
bacon and eggs

the sun
is content
to sleep in today

and i have
lost my voice
to the rain.


  1. Beautiful. The day is what we make of it.
    Thanks for sharing this piece.

  2. I love this! Your poetry is amazing!