Morning Has Broken - Sonnet For My Mom

Early this morning, the song of blackbirds quell the swell of silence enfolded by night. Dim light on a distant ridge: the sun returns, freed from Atlantis, drenched in the cloak of life. Soft dew-drop showers dapple the dusty garden with pops of pastels like lavender, lilac, tea rose and pink, from clouds that carry cleansing tears of a newborn’s young mother, the potter protective her infant clay. She picks up her child, a fragile bowl, chipped, frail from thirty years spent running away, now run aground as a twice sunken ship. Her hands keep a promise, one quietly spoken, made long ago when morning had broken. - For my mother who sang me Cat Stevens' Morning has Broken the day I was born.