Stretch of a Moment
Morning draws the air's curtain open
wandering around viscous spaces
like an August goddess caressing the edge
of sleep… and the days stretch longer,
wider than maple alleys quietly adorning
the tiara of late Indian summer as birds,
cloudline and sea shells listen to
a timbre of a pulsing sun. When all else
is lulled quiet, there comes this
certain gush of stream wading on
mouths of gentleness far beyond
a waterfest of effervescent ocean…
Someone said morning becomes Aurora,
that learning how to hear a peach or
stone unravels the very skin from
which it was born is allowing time to
shed its leaves far beyond unknowing
a heart’s need to just be: the breast of dawn
spills its nectar, peeling new faces of time,
shaping the width of endless harmony.
A thousand times before and after, morning
and night twine again in contentment...
that passing through mellow eyes of any moment
is the world’s way of coming back to itself.
Random Mix Contest: Charlotte Puddifoot
by nette onclaud.... new poem
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