Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Morning in Beloved

As the sun rises
It is a bright
Banana yellow
With a rind of orange.
Through my window
The world is awakening
To Crayola colors
As if creation was
A coloring book.
A periwinkle sky is filled
With clouds whipped thin;
But clouds are no competition
For sun or sky.
In the distance the hills
Stand round about this holler
A ring of isolation
From a harsh world.
The morning mist wraps
Next like batting,
But more alive than
Sun or sky or even trees.
Closest to this cabin
Guardians stand tall
Oak, pine and hickory
Silhouettes against the mist.
Sourwood, dogwood and redbud
Huddle near their feet.
Guarding the low road
That leads to home.

With regret I lower the curtain
I have held ever so long
As I looked out in wonder,
Turn away with regret.
Oh, that I could stay at that window
Watching the sunrise
Watching my little holler
As the world seems to forget
I am there.
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