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A Morning Poem - A Summer Morning

Summer Morning

*****

Summer morning -

  • Pink jets of clouds
  • splash out
  • from the golden well
  • of the east
  • falling just short
  • of an ebbing moon.
  • Streams of swallows
  • flutter and glide
  • over the garden -
  • they are all flying
  • in the same direction
  • as if erupting
  • from the sun’s waking pulse.
  • Just for a moment
  • one of the birds hangs
  • perfectly still -
  • like the top-most drop of water
  • from a fountain before it turns
  • to face the glittering pool.
  • Beneath them all
  • the hummingbird
  • makes her rounds
  • and a dove scratches the earth
  • below the feeder
  • keeping an wary eye
  • on the scribbling intruder.
  • So many summer mornings -
  • too many summer mornings
  • I have wasted
  • worrying about the world
  • and my place in it –
  • absent from my own body
  • and breath
  • the cage of my ribs
  • rising, falling, and pausing
  • without me. Meanwhile,
  • another swallow
  • stills her wings.
  • Buoyed by an unseen breeze
  • she is both feathered sail
  • and cresting wave as she slices
  • over my shoulder bearing west.

- Tom Spencer