Dawn’s first glow
rises in the east,
stirring the valley
with the touch of life—
orange blush
bathes the sky,
beacon lit
across the divide.
In the quiet hush
between night and day,
I set my compass
by sorrow’s star,
and cross the threshold
from shadow to light.
photo – Louis MacKenzie
Reading of “Threshold” with music by Leonard Bernstein
Don, a lovely poem with its sunrise description but I was startled by the reference to sorrow. When the sky is lovely in the morning and the day is ready, a feeling of sorrow doesn’t belong.
Poetry demands a deeper read.
Don — I apparently read your beautiful poem today more deeply than Bro Figel, whom we know is somewhat “poetry-challenged.” Perhaps if Tom would set his compass by sorrow’s star (like you & me), he too would be able to cross that threshold from shadow to light.
Now that spring’s on its way, when the sky looks like your photo, I relax and feel better.
I hear your poem in a “quiet hush,” and treasure the sweet moment of stepping over the threshold. It is real to me in a day’s dawning, and just as real in a moment of shift from one world to another. Blessings, Don.
Don, your poetic words here remind me that Any ‘Star’ by which I integrously set my compass is something of Light that I can trust to orient me. Yet, that ‘something’ is not ‘Me’: Not the star, nor sorrow or a shadow. That’s why I can see ‘it’. That Assurance is my steadfast threshold to the Light from whence every New Morning invariably dawns. Let There Be Light!