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Sara Brummer
Poems
Dec 2022
MORNING
MORNING
Pink convolutions of sky
blow faint breath on silver air-
Morning, a blank page,
a pale world stepping out
of the empire of night.
The first quick showers
of light shake sleeping
spirits awake as gentle
waves of motion wash
away final dreams.
Gray-coated fog mingles
with bright air as blue sings
in the eyes of early hours,
readying the world for
the first brushstrokes
of wonder.
Mist creeps low and
milky-white over fields.
Cliffs stretch white fingers
toward the heavens as tailors
of time begin to measure
the hours.
Earthβs heart pulses with
new energy, but morning
is a stranger in a foreign
land traveling alone.
Written by
Sara Brummer
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