The Art of Morning

Upon rising, awakened by ripening scent teasing my nose, trilling my lips and tongue, – my taste buds opening to bird-like songs as dawn's light breathes new life and hope into my journey, so begins a fresh flutter of time, an extending run of exclamatory chirps and wing-full stretching – Muse beckons, yielding to artist' pen and eye – we are co-authors, exchanging thoughtful leafs and sun-dipped pages; mingling natures, swapping poetic voice, reversing positions of artist vs model – conjuring word-images and interactive, painted-canvases – confounding our seasons of blossoming and harvest, embracing God's budding voice and fruitful manifestations, His nectar-ed, figurative language, blending human with Divine senses.... displaying contrasts that stimulate exploratory forming and transitory shading – clearing and clouding affects both inside and on my outside, as the clutter of yesterday, and promise of a spring-like showers soak crusty sediments with saturating, fertile possibilities; all taking bows – the theater that of spiritual mastery – Mystery is my source, my echo, my chambered growth. My resources, exploitable enclaves of poetic walls, primed, awaiting both solid and abstract vibrations, energizing experimental blurbs, those planned and random into searchable articulations, grasping, too often vainly, for fantastical alliteration of sterile, common-place views – I am deepened and ready to let air we are each our best audience my left-hand meeting your right for a brisk clap of inspiration followed by riotous applause....