morning poem, june 2, 2016


This morning’s first light
Was bright, it broke in
And broke open

And then all the world was green
The fresh lawns
The tall oaks, the lush maples
The proper linden trees
The clipped shrubbery.

But there, across the way
On Mrs. Daily’s front porch
Was one pot of red flowers
No. Not red exactly,
But some color of fire
That has no name
And there they sat
In that sea of green
Proclaiming their own truth
As if from another world.

There is more, they said
There is deeper
There is other.

Copyright 2016

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2 Responses to morning poem, june 2, 2016

  1. Kiersten says:

    There’s certainly a lot to learn about this subject.
    I like all the points you’ve made.

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