A poem for morning

 

Here is a poem I composed while on the CS Lewis Retreat.  The picture above is sunrise at Weston Priory, a Benedictine Monastery, in 2006.

Let the Morning Be Time  

Let the morning be time for

slow moving ink across the page.

 

Let the morning be time for

the sound of the wind coming before its caress of the face

(the rustle of leaves bringing the news of comfort, peace).

 

Let the morning be time for

the hawk, with outstretched wings, hovering in the sky, searching.

 

Let the morning be time for

grace-filled quiet on wood bench, ears listening, at last, to silence.

 

Let the morning be time for

the clink-chock of axe on kindling wood, for December approaches.

 

Let the morning be time for

clarity from the past, revisited.

 

Let the morning be time for

unstilted camaraderie with former strangers, fellow pilgrims- scarves unwound, jackets off, coffee steaming on bright faces.

 

Let the morning be time for

time, told by the sun only, for its measured path across the sky gives us     movement in the Eternal Present, our true home.

 

Let the morning be time for

even the snail, which will see the end of the wall, tomorrow.

 

Let the morning be time for

the deep exhale

that does nothing less than create space in the soul

for the First Breath

given to Adam.

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