Every Morning to Witness
A sick day poem
Early rays of golden light, Beckon forth this day’s new sight. Now earthly creatures bath in your heavenly delight.
In green meadows, they drink from cold running streams. This morning’s birth heralds what our short life should mean.
With awakened fresh eyes, I look toward cloudless blue skies. Then hear a peaceful song from a hatchling’s soft cries.
Forests secrets that were once clothed in the night. With Dawn’s forgiveness, removed is their old fright.
Mountain peaks held a sleeping shadow mold. Where across dark planes, our dreams gently told. We slept away, our penance forged by gold.
My morning ritual begins to warm a tired soul. Infused with magic removing social control.
Notice is given for an imagined state. Then open my door to journey out past the gate. In Heaven’s golden light watching, I wait.
Thank you for reading, and I hope you may find time to read some of my additional poems.
