Poetry

Sitting with a pre-dawn view

to silhouetted hills through the scrim of trees,

a monochrome kaleidoscope,

eyes stretch to the blank white/blue of horizon.

Light competes for sky space with evergreens

branching up in the way while birds

ponder breakfast in the still, cool air.

Perhaps they’re waiting for more nature noise,

a leaf-green-branch-wise twig-sound

to accompany their first meal of the day.

I feast on mine-the teakettle’s

slow rumble, the tick-click-tick

of the clock and this pen in my hand

on the page. It is meal enough for now.

Let the world wake up later.

I am writing.

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