Morning Light

My home is high up in a castle
with a vista of grass and woodland.
The rising day rims distant trees
and then hits magnolia blossoms—
so sun or cloud cover, I don’t need
curtains to feel private, protected.
 
Here’s a daily invitation to wait
near the glass and secretly watch
swift moving cardinals. Here’s
an invitation to walk across the grass
toward the trees, pausing and
lifting my walker with each step. 
 
Finally, I learn the slow motion  
that morning light seems to prefer,
a speed meant to feel and to bless
the light, to see and to accept
the blessing of the grass, to welcome
the shadow of the woodlands.

 

For Sherry's prompt "The Coming of the Light" at What's Going On?

(And here is a simple song.)

The Coming of the Light
 
It’s a long time coming,
The light of dreams
The light of reason
The light of love
 
I expect it each day
In morning light
In silver-lined clouds
In rainbows
 
But I know, without hearing the news
That famine exists
That blood flows
That neighbors hate neighbors
 
I stand with others working for the light
To heal the earth
To feed everyone
To eliminate revenge

It's a long time coming
Expect it every day
dream light
love light, holy light

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright.

© 2024 Susan L. Chast