Feb 07
emmett's picture

The Morning Call

In the morning
while the sun refuses to wake 
and the fingernails of the sky 
glow maroon
I find myself hanging 
in a veil of wet silence

this moment is fragile
like the first ice
on a woodland pond
the shrill call of a morning 
bird bouncing off the glassy pane
carrying excitement in its song

this day will be bright